


All That Was Fair

by jamiemackenziefraser



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: (but not exactly your typical slow burn), Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Faerie Claire, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Modern Day, Slow Burn, hopefully some humor and feel-good too, mostly Jamie POV, this is me after all...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28743219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamiemackenziefraser/pseuds/jamiemackenziefraser
Summary: Jamie Fraser is hiking near some strange stones when he comes across an unconscious lass. Determined to help her, Jamie’s life is turned completely upside down as he takes her in. The only issue... she’s not human.This is the story of a faerie lass and a human lad as they discover the world and each other.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 458
Kudos: 302





	1. Sing Me A Song

**Author's Note:**

> So this is somewhat based on some Scottish folklore, mixed with a dash of Icelandic legends about the hidden people, and a lot of my own made up ideas. So don’t put too much stock in the lore presented, and please bear with me as things are slowly revealed. 
> 
> Without further ado, thanks so much for giving this a chance, and I hope you enjoy! :))

Growing up in the highlands of Scotland, Jamie was so accustomed to the breathtaking majesty of the landscape that he’d nearly become desensitized to it. But on days like this one, when he really opened his eyes, the soul of the country came alive and somehow managed to bury itself into his being. It was a part of him as much as he was a part of it. 

It was with that sense of belonging that he undertook his hike. The day was perfect— slightly overcast but with slivers of sun beams breaking through, illuminating the greens and blues of the countryside. He squinted up at the clouds in appreciation as he picked his way up a particularly steep incline. As an avid outdoorsman, Jamie found the challenge enticing, and he didn’t mind the difficult terrain. 

His morning had started much the same way it often did. Waking up with that slight ache of loneliness that seemed to accompany him everywhere, brushing it off while going about his morning routine, and deciding on an activity for the day-- often something physical-- hoping that perhaps it would fill that hole inside him as well as the hours of his time off. Today, he had chosen hiking. Something about the peace of the wilderness-- the force of nature that was Scotland herself-- made him feel a little less alone. 

It wasn’t that Jamie was unhappy. His publishing company did well enough. More than well enough, if he was being honest, although no amount of money could ever possibly fill the hole inside him. But he liked his job, his house just outside Inverness, seeing his family when he visited Lallybroch, even his cat, Adso. He told himself he was content-- and he tried his hardest to be. Still, at the end of the day, something was missing from the picture perfect life. 

He drove away the existential thoughts by quickening his pace. By this point, he was panting slightly in exertion, but he pushed himself on. Climbing the rough terrain was no easy task, and his hiking boots slipped occasionally on uneven ground. Just as he crested the top, he stopped short. Ahead of him were standing rocks, arranged in a circle and standing tall and proud. Something about them prickled the skin on his arms. Curiosity peaked— and ready for a break anyhow— he circumspectly wandered toward them. 

As he approached the circle, Jamie suddenly glimpsed a flash of white in the middle. He squinted, and quickly moved closer. 

_ Christ, it was a lass!  _

_ Lying unconscious in the middle of the circle.  _

He moved cautiously toward her, but felt himself buzzing with urgency. Something clearly had happened to her-- she was limp as a ragdoll someone had tossed carelessly aside. 

Once he got close, he dropped to his knees beside her. 

She was the bonniest thing he’d seen in his entire life. Her eyes were closed, dark lashes curving downward to brush the silky porcelain skin below her eyes. The bones of her face were prominent, but in a delicate way that gave her an air of grace. Her hair was a deep brown mass of unruly curls that splayed around her head like a halo where it rested on the ground. She was lying on her side, one arm splayed out in front of her. His eyes swept (completely unbidden) down the length of her body.  _ A dhia, she was tiny. _ Although most people were tiny to Jamie’s 6’4’’ stature, she especially was. The only thing she was wearing was a small white dress, and it clung perfectly to the soft curves of her body. Lying unconscious, she seemed heartbreakingly vulnerable. 

But the most striking thing about the lass was the glow that seemed to surround her. The best way he could describe it was the color gold, but it was more like… a feeling. A warmth or sensation that shimmered around her. 

She was ethereal. 

As he studied her in that moment, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was too perfect to be merely human. No… she was _ something else. _ He knew it in his wame. If anyone asked, he couldn’t have expressed exactly how he had such conviction, but he still kent with complete certainty that she was not of this world. 

Despite this realization, he wasn’t frightened even in the slightest. Instead, an urge to help her-- to protect her at all costs-- began to well up inside him. The compulsion was unlike anything he’d experienced before. Maybe it was her vulnerability, or maybe it was something deeper, but Jamie was determined to care for the lass. 

He reached a hand out toward her, drawn as if by a magnetic force. The second his fingers brushed her skin, the desire to hold her overpowered him. He slid a hand under her shoulders and ever-so-gently gathered her into his arms. Touching her sent a warmth emanating through him, as if the glow surrounding her had enveloped him as well, wrapping him in its radiance. It felt…  _ right _ . 

Jamie sat with her encircled in his arms for only a moment, his eyes transfixed on her lovely face. Then, without thinking, he carefully rose, repositioning her limp body in his arms to keep her tucked safely against him. She was so light that it was like lifting a child. Feeling the rightness of carrying her, he had the insane yearning in his gut to never let her go. 

As he took the first step away from the stones, his brain came snapping back into his head and he suddenly questioned what the devil he was doing.  _ What DID he mean to do with her?  _

Well, the only option was to take her home, he supposed. She was clearly in need of help, and the urge to protect her was too strong to just leave her there. And the hospital was out-- Jamie had seen enough movies to know that. So, home was simply the best course of action. 

It was quite a ways away to where he had parked on the side of a road. Descending the hill suddenly seemed much easier though, distracted as he was by the lass-- no, creature?-- cradled in his arms. _ Maybe he was losing his mind?  _

He walked on for a while, thinking about nothing at all except the feeling of her body against him and the rhythm of his steps, and tracing her features with his eyes, enchanted. 

But as he was staring down at that perfectly sculpted face, he suddenly noticed that her eyelashes were fluttering and he came to an abrupt halt. Behind the nearly translucent eyelids, her eyes moved back and forth. 

She blinked open her eyes slowly, revealing the most breathtaking honey-colored irises he’d ever seen. They were nearly the exact color of his favorite whiskey, he realized with a bit of a start. They were also slightly dazed, clouded over with the haze of dissipating unconsciousness. She smiled lazily up at him for a second, those beautiful pink lips curving upward, but then awareness suddenly hit her and her eyes popped open wide and fearful. She let out a cry of surprise. 

In that split second, she started squirming in his grasp, limbs thrashing about as she tried to free herself. Unprepared as he was, his hold around her came loose, and her body slipped from his arms. She landed on unsteady legs, stumbled back a few steps, and then promptly fell backward, landing on her elbows. 

The lass stared up at him for a second in shock, those golden eyes trying desperately to take in the situation. Her body screamed of tension and fear, anxious tremors going through her, visibly shaking her body. It broke his heart to see. 

Jamie quickly raised his hands in a gesture of non-threatening. In a moment of instinct, he crouched down to her level, still a ways away from her, just like he might have done with a spooked animal. 

“Dinna fash, I jes’ want tae help ye. I’m a friend; I mean ye nae harm,” he said gently. 

Her chest had been heaving as she took in large gulps of air, fear and wariness apparent on his features. But at his words, the tension in her body lessened a fraction, and she sat up. But those big eyes never wavered in their intense scrutiny, and she still was trembling. 

“My name is James Fraser,” he continued calmly, trying to keep his voice even and steady, “I was hiking and found ye lyin’ unconscious near some stones. I was tryin’ tae bring ye tae help.”

More strain melted from her. She looked at him for a long second, the gears in her brain noticeably working as she tried to decide whether or not to trust him. But he saw the moment she came to the decision, and the set of her shoulders slumped as she settled. Once she felt comfortable enough to risk taking her eyes off him, she glanced down at her body, as if appraising herself for any injuries. 

“Are ye alright, lass?” he couldn’t help but ask. 

She blinked up at him again but didn’t answer. _ God, those eyes were enchanting _ . She looked to be struggling with herself again. Those beautiful eyes glanced at him, away toward where they’d come, and then back at him. 

“You can see me?” 

It took Jamie’s brain a moment to register that she’d spoken. Her voice was musical, like chimes in the wind— airy and light and... surprisingly  _ english _ . 

And she’d asked the question with a note of disbelief. 

He realized he was gaping at her, and quickly closed his mouth and formulated a response. 

“Aye, of course I can see ye… Oh--” it suddenly dawned on him, “am I no’ supposed to?”

“Emm,” she glanced down, looking a little abashed, “no.” 

“Well, I’m glad I can, because ye’re the bonniest lass I’ve seen in my life.” The second the words had spewed from Jamie’s mouth, he wanted to stuff them back in.  _ What was wrong with him? _ His cheeks grew hot in embarrassment. 

But much to his delight, the lass’ cheeks showed a matching dusting of pink. She looked pleased, but her eyes fluttered down demurely. A tiny hint of a smile pulled at her lips.  _ God, she was lovely.  _

Then, she glanced back up, looking at him from under those dark eyelashes. Instead of fear, her eyes now glimmered with something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. But he liked it. 

“Your name is… James?” she asked softly. 

“Aye, but my friends call me Jamie.” 

She smiled in response, but said no more. Torn between curiosity and not wanting to push her, he hesitantly requested, “may I ask yers?” 

“I’m called Sorcha,” she answered, “Claire.” 

_ “Light” in Gaelic. How fitting.  _

“Sorcha,” he repeated, trying it out. It rolled off his tongue perfectly, as if he’d been created for the singular purpose of saying her name. “Well, I’m verra pleased to meet ye.” 

The wariness was all but gone from her, and Jamie couldn’t have been happier. While they were speaking, she had been leaning gradually toward him, and he had shifted a bit closer in response. The magnetism he’d felt toward her since he’d first laid eyes on her seemed only to be growing. At that moment, the air crackled with a connection that seemed almost tangible. Jamie was hyper-aware of the measly centimeters that lay between them. The silence stretched long, but it wasn’t awkward in the least. If anything, it seemed to draw them ever closer. 

As if thinking the exact same thing, she rose onto her knees. The look on her face as she studied him morphed into something almost... inquisitive. In a rush of boldness (he saw it on her face), she inched toward him with her hand outstretched. He leaned in toward her touch, and her fingers hovered just over his face for a second before she bridged the distance and her fingertips brushed it, very softly. The moment she made contact with his skin, a zing of electricity coursed through him. It was neither a jolt nor a shock, but rather a tingling buzz of excitement that traveled from his face out all over his body. 

Her soft fingertips traveled slowly from his temples, across his brow, and down the side of his jaw— exploring. She traced reverently over his cheek bone and then lightly brushed over his lips. She ended by catching a stray curl between two fingers and gently tugging on it in fascination. Delight spread across her face. 

The whole time, Jamie had sat stock-still. Her odd behavior didn’t alarm him in the slightest. He trusted her completely and hoped that he was earning her trust as well. It seemed so, because once she finished exploring his face, she sat back on her legs, which were folded under her, but made no move to draw away. They were so close they were almost touching. 

She looked up at him with a warmth dancing in her eyes. 

“I think you are beautiful, Jamie Fraser,” she said quietly. 

A grin spread over his face. He couldn’t help it. 

But that grin fell away instantly when the lass’ expression abruptly changed. She went suddenly pale and her brows furrowed. Her skin was already perfect ivory, but it grew impossibly whiter and it looked as if all the blood drained from her. She swayed slightly, her eyes growing hooded, and she had to brace a hand on the ground to keep from falling. 

“Woah, lass,” tumbled from his lips, and he reached out to steady her with a hand at her side. 

One of her dainty hands came up to press against her head. “I feel… dizzy,” she said breathlessly. 

She slumped forward suddenly, directly into Jamie’s waiting arms. He immediately hugged her against his chest. Instead of tucking her head underneath his chin as he ached to do, he looked down at her. To his gratitude, those honey eyes stared up at him, still conscious albeit hazy. Her head lolled on his shoulder. 

Now that he was holding her, he realized suddenly that she was trembling. More than that, she was shaking like a leaf. 

“Are ye alright, a nighean?” he asked in alarm. 

“It’s-- cold,” she said. 

That confused him for a moment because her body felt warm to him. It was mid autumn, but the day was only mildly childly. All Jamie had on was a light jacket. Even so, she was shivering. 

With one hand still holding her against him so she didn’t crumple to the ground, he used the other to slip off his jacket. He draped it around her, wrapping her in his warmth, and then smoothed his hands up and down her arms. 

“Christ, lass, ye’re shakin’ so hard ye’re making my teeth rattle.” 

Claire didn’t respond that time. She was breathing slowly against him, but Jamie could tell that she was well and truly out of it. Concern for her was mounting with every passing second. He needed to get her out of the chilly air. 

“I’ll take ye home. Ye need rest and food,” he said gently. 

She hummed slightly in confusion-- a wee noise that tugged at his heartstrings. 

“Is that alright, lass?” He asked, not wanting to betray her trust by taking her to his place against her will, “will ye come wi’ me?” 

She nodded against his shoulder. “Yes,” she breathed faintly. 

That was all the confirmation he needed. He scooped her up again and rose. Much to his surprise, her arms lifted and wrapped tightly around his neck. A bit of warmth fluttered in his belly. Starting along the path again, he stepped gingerly, even more so than he had before. 

He wasn’t sure exact what connected him to her, but it was the strongest thing he’d felt in his life. Jamie was absolutely burning with questions. He wanted desperately to know  _ what  _ she was and what she had been doing on top of that hill. And what had happened to her? The questions burned in his head like sparks shooting into the air in all directions. 

Jamie wasn’t without his theories… he was a highlander after all. He’d grown up with stories of the selkies, nuckelavee, kelpy, changelings...

She was  _ something  _ not of this world. 

But his questions could wait. It was obvious that she wasn’t well. First he’d care for her, and then, with time, he hoped that she’d trust him enough to tell him her story. 

Even though he’d only known her for all of a handful of minutes, Jamie was terrified of losing her. Somehow, this inquisitive and vulnerable creature had wormed her way into his heart. He wanted to take care of her, to know her, to protect her. Maybe more… 

He was broken from his thoughts by a nuzzling against his neck. His wame flipped topsy-turvey as he realized that Claire was nestling her face into the crook where his shoulder met his neck. 

_ Christ!  _ He could feel the warmth of her incredibly soft skin where his own was bared above his collar. In fact, he was sensitive to every bit of contact between them. Every puff of breath that tickled his skin made him shiver. 

His jacket had started to slip off of her, and with a careful one-handed maneuver so as not to drop her, he flipped it back in place. 

“Thank you, Jamie,” she murmured distantly. 

“Nae bother. I canna have ye freezin’ to death.” 

“I mean for taking care of me.” 

It alarmed him how weak her voice sounded, but he couldn’t stop the delight twisting inside him at her words. It seemed he truly had her trust. 

“Oh. Well… ye’re quite welcome,” he offered tenderly. 

Where she held onto his neck, her thumb caressed back and forth in reply. Or maybe it was just an absent touch. Either way, he wouldn’t complain. 

By this point, Jamie’s car was in sight. He sped up with renewed eagerness, making his way across the rest of the distance until he rounded to the passenger side. He glanced down at Claire to find her eyes were closed. She seemed to be wavering just on the edge of unconsciousness-- not aware but not totally succumbed to sleep. He was careful not to jostle her when he completed the balancing act of holding her while opening the passenger side door. 

He deposited her gently onto the seat— where she immediately slumped, head falling to rest on the side of the car— then reached across to buckle the seatbelt over her tiny, still shivering form. Finally, he straightened his jacket, tucking it more tightly around her. 

Once she was settled, he reluctantly withdrew himself and walked around to get in the driver’s side. Eyes fixed on her all the while, he fumbled with his keys and started the car. Remembering her shivering, he turned the heat on high. 

Only a second after he’d done so, Claire shifted. She blinked her eyes open, peered at him, and then promptly leaned over the seat--completely heedless of the center console separating them-- and laid down on his lap, eyes immediately closing again. 

He felt his heart leap to his throat. His hands hovered above her for a second, unsure. Then, giving into instinct, he stroked her curls gently. They were incredibly soft— unreasonably so in his opinion. As he carded his fingers through her hair, he came across a few scattered bits of greenery and foxtails that had been caught there-- likely from when she had laid on the ground. They suited her, he thought, but extricated them gently one by one from those bonny curls. 

“Mo nighean donn,” he said to himself absently. His heart swelled with affection for her. 

He sat in enrapturement for a long moment, heedless of the running car and making no move to still his hands. 

There were so many unanswered questions-- so many doubts that any sane person would address. But Jamie wasn’t inclined to pay them any mind. All he wanted to do was take care of her, to have the opportunity to hold her in his arms again, and to see her safe. 

He would take things one step at a time. Sanity could wait. 

So, first things first. 

_ He was taking her home _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don’t actually know if something like this has been done before, but I thought it’d be fun to play on Claire’s “outlandishness” as well as the gossip that she’s a faerie, and thus this idea was born.
> 
> I was originally trying to wait a little longer before posting, but I decided to just go for it before the writing insecurity set in. With that being said, I already have a good 20k+ written, so I'll be updating regularly. I'm thinking maybe twice a week? Also, it'll be cross-posted on tumblr @jamiemackenziefraser if you'd rather keep up on there. 
> 
> Thank you so, so much for reading!! Love to you all


	2. A Lass that is Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie gets some answers and begins to encounter a few oddities about his houseguest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An early update! Because I'm busy this weekend and don't want to already break my promise to post twice a week-ish ;)
> 
> Thanks for continuing with me and I hope you enjoy! <3

Jamie’s fingers were tangled in perfect brown locks, unmoving, when his brain came hurtling back into his head and he realized that he was sitting in a running car but making absolutely no move to drive it. As delightful as it was to play with Claire’s hair as she laid in his lap, he thought he probably should get her home. He shifted into drive, put his foot on the gas, and thus they began their journey back.

He lived only about 30 minutes away, and the lass slept the entire time— melted across the console and into his lap. He listened to the sound of her breathing all the while as he drove. More than once, his attention was so fixed on her that he had to remind himself to pay attention to the road. It wouldn’t do her any good if he crashed the car and killed them both. The time went simultaneously slow and fast, until all of a sudden, he was pulling up to his countryside cottage-- muscle memory having completed the last section of the drive. 

He parked, and then looked down at the sleeping lass (creature?— he still wasn’t sure how to refer to this ethereal being) in his lap, at a loss for what to do. 

“Sorcha...” he said gently, “we’re home. Let’s get ye inside.” 

He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to use the phrase “we’re home”, but it felt oddly right as it hung in the air. 

She made a soft, sleepy sound of assent but made no move to get off his lap, nor did she open her eyes. Jamie smiled fondly down at her. He wouldn’t mind carrying her in— she was light as a feather and he delighted in feeling her body against his. No, he didn’t mind in the  _ slightest _ . 

He managed to lift her into a sitting position and prop her onto the seat so that he was free to get out and come around to her side. Sliding one hand under her knees and the other behind her back, he scooped her up and out of the car. Once again, she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Carrying her quickly inside, he didn’t pay any heed to anything else with the car. The passenger door even stayed open. But he didn’t care. All that could wait. 

The moment they were inside, he beelined for the living room and laid her down gently on the couch. But as he removed his hands and tried to straighten up, the arms around his neck tightened and she clung to him with surprising insistence. She made a soft noise of displeasure that went straight to Jamie’s heart. 

“Dinna fash, mo nighean donn, I’m no’ leavin’ ye. I’m only goin’ tae get some blankets,” he told her tenderly. 

He extracted himself from her arms and scurried across the room to grab a throw blanket from the opposite couch. Then, recalling her shivering, he snagged another from the hall closet. To his surprise, he was loath to part with her even for the second it took to do so. 

When he returned, he had to pause to take in her beauty. She looked just as alluring as she had been when he first laid eyes on her-- so incongruous with his plain living room. The golden aura that surrounded her hadn’t left, although it seemed to have dimmed a bit into a soft, shimmering glow. Her eyes were closed and breathing even and she dozed. He could watch her for hours and never tire of it. 

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he bridged the distance between them. With the utmost care, he laid the blankets over top of her and tucked them under her chin. In response, she sleepily reached up to grasp the edge closest to her face, the sides of her fingers barely brushing Jamie’s as he withdrew. Even that inadvertent touch sent tingles through his hand, and he clasped it to his chest as he watched her. Unaware of the effect her inadvertent, sleepy actions had on him, her fingers traced back and forth exploratorily over the edge of the blanket. 

“Soft,” she murmured, never opening her eyes. 

“Aye,” he acknowledged with a chuckle. 

Then it occurred to him suddenly that maybe  _ she’d never felt a blanket before _ . That sent a whole wave of confusion over him, like reality was a cold bucket of water that had doused him out of the blue. All of his previous questions surfaced again as a jumble in his mind.  _ What the devil  _ **_was_ ** _ this alluring creature that was drifting to sleep on his couch? _

But just as quickly as the perspective and detachment from the situation had descended upon him, it was gone again, overshadowed by the connection between them. He settled, in both body and mind. 

_ Claire was obviously a kind soul, whatever she was. She was no danger to him. So what if he had woken up that morning not believing in the supernatural and now there was some creature in his home who he felt drawn to protect?  _

As the lass’ breathing began to even out into sleep, Jamie couldn’t resist leaning down and just barely brushing his lips over her forehead. As soft as the touch was, Claire must have felt it, because her lips unconsciously turned up in a smile. But the split second after he’d done it, he felt a little sheepish. She wasn’t his to kiss like that. He had no idea what had come over him, but he vowed to himself that he’d keep his impulses better in check. 

He studied her for a long minute, watching as her doze settled into the deeper serenity of unconsciousness. She looked peaceful, and he quietly prayed that she was healing. 

With that, he left her reluctantly. But while she slept, he figured it would be a good time to prepare some food. Without even thinking— his mind still fixated on his Sassenach— he snagged the first thing in the pantry, which happened to be spaghetti. He grabbed a pot, filled it with water, and sprinkled in some salt completely automatically. 

_ An auld one--  _ he decided. _ Or a faerie. Most of the tales his mam had told him when he was a bairn were about malevolent creatures. But Claire certainly wasn’t any of those.  _

His mind churned over the possibilities as he stood over the pot and waited for it to boil, head bowed. His stove was old— probably from the 40’s, he’d often complained— and it took forever to heat. He dumped a bucketload of noodles in and then continued to stand and simply stare, mind preoccupied. 

He had just started to drain the water from the pasta when suddenly a cry came from the other room. 

Jamie bolted upright and nearly dropped the pot. A second distressed sound came, followed quickly by a panicked, “Jamie?” 

He actually did drop the pot that time and ran from the kitchen. He skidded around the corner on socked feet and flew into the living room. 

Claire was sitting up, thrashing against the blankets that were wrapped around her legs and wildly looking around the room. 

“Right here, lass,” he said, trying to infuse his voice with a calm and gentle tone to soothe her. 

Her head whipped around to spot him. In half a second flat, she was up and flying across the room to throw herself into his arms. She nearly bowled him over in her desperation, but he managed to only stumble back half a step as his arms instinctively came around her. 

She clung to him tightly and pressed her wee face against his chest. She was shaking again, but Jamie wasn’t sure if it was residual panic or still from being cold. 

“It’s alright, a nighean,” he reassured, running a hand up and down her back, “it’s alright.” 

“I woke and-- you weren’t there. I t-thought you’d left me,” she stuttered breathlessly. 

He shushed her, cupping her head with one hand and pressing her face further into his chest. 

“I’d never leave ye,” he found himself saying. Reverent but firm-- like a promise. 

_ Christ, what was this lass doing to him?  _

She stayed pressed against him for a long moment, so he simply held her. Their bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces, and Jamie would have been content to have her tucked against him for the rest of his days. 

When she drew back after a while, Jamie parted them by taking a step away so he could study her. 

“Ye look like ye’re feelin’ a bit better,” he commented. 

Having taken in her appearance, he’d noticed that her cheeks held more color and her eyes were no longer clouded and distant. And of course, the fact that she was on her feet and fully capable of running in order to launch herself into his arms was promising. 

“I am,” she nodded and gave him a smile that made his insides melt. 

“Good. Then come along, I’ve made some food.” 

As he turned to show her to the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of her furrowed brow but didn’t really think anything of it. He started walking from the room, and heard the soft patter of impossibly light footsteps catching up to him. 

Much to his surprise, Claire slipped her hand into his when she reached his side. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Jamie accepted her touch and led her into the kitchen. 

“Have a seat,” he said, feeling an odd bit of formality. He pulled out a chair at the table for her and she sat down. 

He quickly grabbed the abandoned spaghetti, added the sauce, and then divided it out into two bowls, conscious all the while of her eyes on him. He turned toward her with a smile and placed her bowl and fork in front of her, briefly leaving to grab glasses of water. When he took his own seat across from her, he found her staring down at the bowl in confusion. 

“What… is it?” she asked. She looked up at him helplessly, face adorably wrinkled up in a perplexed expression. 

“Spaghetti,” he answered, “it’s a type of pasta.” 

She picked up her fork and poked at it suspiciously. Her eyes narrowed. Then, she looked up at Jamie again. 

“What does it  _ do _ ?” she asked. 

Jamie felt just as baffled by her question as she looked. 

“It doesn’t  _ do _ anything. You eat it,” he said hesitantly. 

She was starting to get embarrassed— he could see the flush rising on her high cheekbones— but she kept asking her questions. 

“‘Eat’?” she echoed helplessly. 

Jamie’s eyes widened as it suddenly dawned on him.  _ Does she not eat?  _

“Like this…” 

He speared some noodles with his fork, twisted them, and brought it to his mouth. Locking eyes with her, he chewed exaggeratedly and then swallowed. 

She mimicked his actions under his watchful gaze. She poked at it with her fork, clumsily spun it (nearly all the noodles falling off in the process) and then lifted it slowly. As she brought the fork toward her mouth, she stared at Jamie, as if looking for him to confirm she was doing it right. He nodded in encouragement, and the fork tines disappeared into her mouth. 

The instant after she bit down, she was spitting it out. Her face was contorted in disgust as she stuck her tongue out and sputtered. She raised her head to look at him, a grimace painted over the bonny features. 

“Not good,” she commented with a frown and a shake of her curly head. 

Jamie couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled up from his chest. “I guess you  _ don’t _ eat then,” he said to himself with a laugh. 

She shook her head a little, confirming, and then looked back down at her bowl in disgust. Her hands came up to push it away from her, and Jamie helpfully pushed the offending dish to the opposite side of the table. 

Claire was silent for a second. Jamie folded his hands in his lap, lips pressed together. 

Finally, he couldn’t help the question that burst from him and broke the stillness. 

“I’m sorry, I have tae ask… uh— I dinna ken how tae phrase it. But, ehm...”  _ Spit it out, Fraser.  _ “Are ye... a faerie?” The words tumbled awkwardly from his lips before he could backpedal. He felt like a clotheid for all his awkwardness, but at least it was out. 

She blinked up at him for a second, looking mildly surprised. 

“We prefer to be called the fair folk, but yes, you humans often refer to us as that.” 

“Oh…” he sat dumbfounded for a minute. That had been his theory, so he wasn’t sure exactly why her straightforward confirmation had left him so taken aback, but he was at a loss for words, and left still with hundreds of questions all muddling his brain. 

“Do… do ye mind me askin’ ye a bit more?” he requested hesitantly. 

She gave him a warm smile, her eyes incredibly soft. Her hand reached across the table to gently take his and give it an encouraging squeeze. 

“Of course you can, Jamie. You can ask me whatever you want.”

He returned her smile with gratitude, and then dove right in. 

“Do ye ken what happened to ye?”

Her face clouded a bit. Although her hand never left his, she seemed troubled. A glance downward and a shaky inhale before she started in. 

“I just… heard a buzzing. Like a million bees swarming, filling my ears. I touched the stone— the big one in the middle, and it was the worst pain I’d felt in my life. Like I was torn into a million pieces and then stitched back together over and over again. Then everything went black and the next thing I knew I was waking up in your arms.” 

Sympathy for her pain flashed through Jamie. Fear of the horrible ordeal danced in her unfocused eyes as she relieved it, and Jamie had to stop himself from reacting viscerally to her tale. He gave her hand a squeeze, as if the connection between them could ground her back in the present. 

But he still had more questions burning a hole in his brain. 

“The first thing you said to me… you were surprised that I could see you?” 

She looked a little taken aback at his asking. “Of course. Humans can’t see the fair folk unless we reveal ourselves to them. Have you ever seen a faerie before?” 

“Weel, no…” he agreed, “to be honest, I didna even ken ye existed until today.” He rubbed the back of his neck feeling rather sheepish at the admission. 

His stomach growled suddenly, and his gaze flicked away from her and down toward his bowl in longing. 

“Ehm… do ye mind if I…?” he asked, gesturing toward it. 

She gave him another gut-wrenchingly bright smile and a flick of her hand. “By all means.” 

He dove into his spaghetti, taking a minute to savor it, eyes falling closed. He hadn’t eaten all day. When he looked up again, he found her staring at him, a fond smile on her face. 

“You are so…  _ interesting _ ,” she commented. 

Jamie snorted a laugh and swallowed hastily. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Have you ever seen a human before?” 

She gave a little shrug. “Sure. When they wander near our dun. Never talked to one before though.” 

“Ye… live there then? That hill with the stones?” 

“No, silly. We live in the forest. I was just wandering up by the stones.” 

She stifled a yawn then, and Jamie felt suddenly very guilty. He’d been bombarding her with questions all while she was still recovering from whatever the stones had done to her. When he really looked at her, weariness was written clearly over her features, and despite her willing attitude, her shoulders drooped with fatigue. 

“I’m sorry, lass, I’ve been grillin’ ye wi’ all these daft questions and ye’re obviously verra tired. It’s gettin’ late. Why dinna ye get some real rest?” 

She nodded gratefully and stood in unison with him, swaying only slightly. Thinking about what had happened last time he’d tried to lead her somewhere, he extended his hand to her preemptively. Her lips curled up revealing a hint of dimples, and she took it. 

Her touch sent another pleasant tingle of electricity through him, and her palm fit perfectly against his, small and warm. He took her to the guest bedroom, which was fortunately kept made up. He lifted the covers for her before gesturing for her to lay down. She complied, slipping underneath them and laying her head instantly on the pillow as if the weight of it was too heavy to bear any longer. He tucked her in again with a rush of tenderness. 

“I’ll be jes’ in the room beside this one,” he said in a low voice, “call for me if ye need anythin’. Sleep well, mo nighean donn.” 

He gave her a smile, but before he could turn to leave, she caught his hand. Looking up at him with soft eyes, she pressed a kiss to his palm. 

“Thank you, Jamie,” she breathed. 

“My pleasure,” he answered with a bit of a flush creeping up his neck and a warmth fluttering in his wame. 

She released him, and with only a moment of reluctant hesitation, he left her side. 

When he reached the doorway, he lingered for a second and watched her close her eyes. She was breathtaking. Although he knew it was time for him to leave, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her. _ Cuddled under the blankets, wee and perfect.  _

Finally, he managed to rally himself and slipped from the room. He left her door propped open a crack in case she should need something during the night and flicked the hall light on so that she wouldn’t be in total darkness if she woke up. Once he felt he’d settled everything, he headed back to the kitchen. 

To say he was hungry would have been an understatement. He wolfed down the rest of his spaghetti in mere seconds, and then haphazardly threw the bowls in the sink. As much as his mind was racing with questions still, it had been a long day, and he needed to sleep. 

The house felt oddly quiet as he padded down to his room and got ready for bed. His night routine went by in a daze, and soon he plopped down into bed. 

His mind still raced with thoughts of her. Most of all, it was giddiness at her closeness. How her touch had moved him. Images of her ethereal beauty. The warmth that surrounded her and seemed to envelop him any time he was near. 

_ Christ, he was infatuated _ . 

Tossing and turning in bed, he forced his mind to calm. Sleep would be necessary for him to properly care for her. He wanted to wake up refreshed as soon as she did, so couldn’t allow his brain to run away from him. 

Unconsciousness overtook him surprisingly quickly, although he remained in that odd state of half-awake/half-asleep as he drifted off. His mind swirled with images of honey-gold eyes. 

He was jerked out of sleep all of a sudden by the sensation of his blankets lifting and a warm body climbing in next to him. Before he could react, Claire had nestled herself against his side. He was lying on his back, and she situated herself curled up around him, one arm thrown over his body in an almost possessive way and head pillowed on his chest. It took him a second to swim to consciousness enough to come to terms with what the hell had just happened. 

_ Claire was in his bed. With him. Her soft body pressed all down the length of his side.  _

His fuzzy brain struggled to form words. 

“What are ye doin’?” he demanded foggily. 

“Sleeping,” she answered casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to have climbed into his bed. 

Jamie was too tired to argue about proper scruples of man and a woman not sharing a bed. Nor was he terribly inclined to extricate himself and kick her out of his room. 

So, he simply gathered her closer and closed his eyes. 

He had never slept better in his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your response to the first chapter!! Seriously, it still blows my mind that I can post my writing and there are people who like it, so thank you guys. Much love to you all <3


	3. Part of Your World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire starts to settle in, and Jamie finds himself feeling things well out of his depth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grab a toothbrush, because things are getting reeal sweet ;)

Jamie awoke feeling content. _He hadn’t woken content in ages._ He smiled a little to himself, eyes still lazily closed, and made to stretch out. But as he started to lift his arms, he realized they were wrapped around something soft and heavy. In fact, whatever it was he was cuddling was fit snugly into the curve of his body as he laid on his side. 

_ What the devil? _

He opened his eyes to the sight of a lass in his arms, her back pressed all along his front and curly brown hair splayed over his pillow and tickling his nose. 

He jolted back, startled. He had jumped so much with that movement that he’d reached the edge of the bed, which dipped under him and sent him toppling off the side. Arms flailing uselessly, he hit the floor with a  _ thump _ . The abrupt landing served to wake him up the rest of the way and brought everything flooding back to him. 

_ A faerie. In his bed. Because he’d brought her home and then she’d climbed in there with him while he was asleep as if it was the most normal thing in the world.  _

If it weren’t for the quite obviously  _ real _ shape of her lying in his bed, he would have thought it had all been a dream. He managed to get his legs underneath him and slowly stood, eyes fixed on Claire. Tentatively, Jamie perched on the edge of the bed and studied her for a long moment as his brain tried to catch back up to the situation. 

As always when he looked at her, the entrancement grew. His eyes caressed over her tousled hair and all the way down her covered body to her feet. She was just a wee lump under the blankets-- curled up and looking surprisingly incomplete without his body shielding her-- but he thought he could still make out the faint shimmer of golden warmth that surrounded her in the dim light. The covers rose and fell with each steady breath she took. 

But looking closer, he realized she didn’t look completely peaceful. Her eyes were screwed shut just that too tightly. There was a tension still in her body-- the tension that had melted from her the previous day when she’d grown to trust him. But he could tell that, in sleep, the fear of the situation was still there. She was in an unfamiliar place, with someone not of her own kind-- he couldn’t blame her in the slightest. But it still broke his heart. 

His conscience told him to leave her to her rest. Maybe she’d be more at ease without vaguely sensing his presence? He had managed to creep halfway across the room when she suddenly stirred. Her face popped out from underneath the sleep-mussed curls to regard him with an expression that began as wary confusion as she first tried to remember where she was, and then, just as quickly, it changed to a look of fondness as her gaze settled on him. 

“Good morning, Jamie,” she said sweetly, voice still thick with sleep. 

“Ehm,” he cleared his throat, shifting a little awkwardly and unsure what exactly to do under the circumstances, “good morning.” 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to fill the stillness, because Claire was inclined to action. She sat up, the covers falling away from her body, and stretched her arms. Her mouth fell open with a wide yawn. Those brown curls that Jamie loved so much were sticking out every which way, like a delightful bird’s nest. Seeing her disheveled and mussed from sleep was only even more endearing. 

_ What he wouldn’t give to wake up to this every morning…  _

“How are ye feelin’ today?” he asked, a little tentatively. 

“Better than yesterday,” she answered simply. He sensed a slightly veiled tone; there was something she wasn’t telling him. But he wouldn’t push her. 

She tossed the covers aside and stuck her legs out over the side of the bed. After spending a moment entranced by the silky-smooth bare skin revealed there as she got out of bed, Jamie realized with a start that he was looking at _ silky-smooth bare skin _ . She was still wearing her white dress from yesterday, a bit dirty and worn ragged from her ordeal. 

“Christ, in all the confusion yesterday I didna even offer ye clean clothes. I’m sorry, lass,” he exclaimed. His mother would have been appalled by his lack of hospitality. 

She shrugged, unperturbed. “Don’t worry, Jamie. It’s alright.” 

He shook himself out a bit, trying to clear the fog out of his head that made him into a complete imbecile around her. 

“Let me get ye some clothes. Or would ye like a shower first?” 

Her head tilted a little to the side, like a dog looking confused about an order from its master. But she quickly hid the expression and said simply, “clothes would be good.” 

Jamie went to work. He grabbed one of his tee-shirts from the drawer and then sweatpants (with drawstrings, for otherwise she’d be swallowed by loose fabric) from another. He wished he had some of his sister Jenny’s old things, or any clothes that might actually be suitable for her, but unfortunately these were the only options. He set the folded pile down on the bed like an offering while Claire stood in the corner, studying him patiently the whole time. 

“Here, a nighean. At least they’re somethin’ clean tae wear. I’ll leave ye tae get sorted.” 

Before he could be distracted by her further, he turned and fled the room, closing the door politely behind him. 

Breakfast might be a good option, he thought. Since apparently Claire didn’t eat, he might as well take this time to get himself something. Padding into the kitchen, he absently grabbed some cereal and dumped whatever kind it was into a bowl, followed by some milk. 

A few minutes later, Claire came padding in, and his spoon froze halfway to his mouth in shock. 

She was clad in  _ just _ his tee shirt, bare legs going on for miles. Since she was so much smaller than him, it didn’t have any trouble preserving her decency, but it still revealed far too much of those glorious legs that made his eyes bulge. A million thoughts rushed through his head at once. The first was-- naturally-- desire. He was a red-blooded man after all, and she was the most gorgeous lass he’d seen in his life. That was followed shortly by possessiveness. To see her in his clothes…. as if his protection was wrapped around her— his mark on her… certain feelings arose. _ “She’s mine,”  _ his brain helpfully provided. Nearly as immediately as he’d attended that thought, shame rushed through him. She  _ wasn’t _ his, nor did she deserve to be ogled in that way. He was certain that red was spreading up his neck and all the way to his ears, betraying his thoughts like a neon sign. 

But the whole time Jamie was gaping, every muscle of his body frozen, Claire was walking casually into the kitchen to look out the window above the sink, completely unaware of the reaction she was eliciting from him. 

Jamie gulped and set his spoon back in his cereal. 

“Ah… Claire?” he said hesitantly. 

She turned from the window and gave him a warm but oblivious smile. 

“Yes, Jamie?” 

Trying very hard not to look at her creamy legs, he tentatively asked, “Ye… ye didna want the pants…?”, unsure of how exactly to broach the question. 

She looked down at herself and shrugged. “They didn’t fit.” 

When she looked back up at him (likely taking in his blush and flustered manner), her eyes suddenly went wide. “Is this wrong?” 

Jamie wasn’t sure exactly how to answer that. His mouth opened and closed a few times-- embarrassingly like a fish-- before he managed to stutter out, “it’s jes’… a wee bit distracting.” 

She looked unsure. Her face clouded with that puzzled expression she got when contemplating a human thing. “Distracting?” she echoed. 

“Aye,” he confirmed. He averted his eyes and his cheeks flamed. There was no way she’d missed that. 

“Oh,” she said, nodding in sudden understanding, “I see. I’ll just… try again.” 

She turned on her heel and padded out of the room. A second later, she returned, helplessly holding the pants up on her hips. 

Jamie had to swallow hard again. “Come here, lass,” he said, voice coming out gravelly. 

She did, standing in front of him and still gripping the waistband to keep it up. 

With slightly shaking fingers, he fumbled with the drawstring. He clumsily drew it tighter, pulling it several times to get it to tighten around that impossibly tiny waist, and finally he managed to tie it. When he was finished, his hands instinctively smoothed over his hips, and his thumb traced a circle over the jut of his hip bone before he let go, his heart thundering in his chest. 

She withdrew from him, looking down at the garment. Then, she smiled and gave him a twirl to show it off. 

“Verra bonny,” he rasped through dry throat. 

“They’re soft!” she exclaimed in delight. 

“Aye,” he acknowledged, warming at her excitement. He rose to his feet in order to properly appraise her, “but they’re draggin’ all o’er the ground. Soon we’ll go out and get ye some proper clothes.” 

“Hmm?” she asked in confusion. But he didn’t have a chance to elaborate, because suddenly a streak of grey fur was barrelling into the room. 

Adso.  _ Ifrinn, in all the confusion he hadn’t remembered to feed the cheetie that morning.  _

The moment the cat streaked toward them, meowing in displeasure at Jamie, Claire let out an alarmed squeak. Before he knew what was happening, Claire was launching herself at him. She scrambled up his body as if climbing a tree and wrapped her legs around his waist, arms clinging to his neck. His own arms settled around her nearly immediately-- holding her was almost natural at this point. 

Adso had settled at his feet, his green eyes regarding the faerie with a mixture between curiosity and wariness. All his complaints about food were forgotten with the awareness of the new creature who was currently latched onto Jamie like a koala. 

Claire looked down at the cat, apprehension clear on her face. She wrapped her legs even higher around Jamie’s middle in order to keep herself safely away from him. 

Jamie couldn’t help but laugh. “Dinna fash, Sassenach. ‘Tis only my wee cheetie, Adso.” 

“Cheetie?” she asked warily, making no move to detach herself. 

“Aye, a cat. Ye’ve never seen one, then?” 

“No…” she answered with a bit of trembling in her voice that he found endearing, “nothing like it lives in my forest.” 

“Well, ye needna be scarrit of him. He’s a bit of a temper when he hasna been fed, but he’s a braw cat. Verra sweet when ye gain his trust,” Jamie explained. 

“He lives with you?” she asked. 

“Aye. He’s a… companion of sorts. Although he’d probably think that I belong to him,” Jamie chuckled. 

Claire was still making no move to climb down. As much as he adored holding her, he couldn’t quite manage it every time Adso was in the room. 

“Why dinna ye say hallo? Jes’ hold out yer hand and let him smell ye for a bit, and then maybe he’ll let ye pet him,” Jamie suggested. 

Adso was sitting perfectly still by his feet like the well-mannered little gentlemen he was. Jamie had complete faith that he’d take to Claire as soon as she stopped being scared of him. 

Slowly, Claire unwrapped her legs from Jamie’s middle and let them fall to the ground. Once she was on her own two feet, it took her a second to let go of his neck. Finally though, she knelt down on the floor and extended a hand nervously to Adso. 

The cat gave her a few wary sniffs. Likely he’d never smelled anything remotely like her. Jamie thought she smelled like roses and earth, but he couldn’t have guessed what the cat was sensing. Adso regarded her with green eyes for a long moment, and then suddenly butted his head under her hand in a friendly gesture of acceptance. 

Claire laughed in delight, and instantly started to stroke the cat’s fur. Just as Jamie predicted, they took to each other like fish to water. Adso always had been a keen judge of character. He was soon purring under Claire’s eager pets, and it took only a few seconds for him to clamber onto her lap. 

As he settled down on top of her, Claire looked up at Jamie with an awed expression. Delight and unadulterated joy were painted across her face. 

“That means he likes ye, ken?” Jamie said. 

“I like him, too,” she said affectionately, looking back down at the cat. 

While Claire gave her new friend her full attention, Jamie looked on fondly. It was as if she fit in perfectly to his life. Despite not even being human, having her here seemed as natural as breathing. Like she was always meant to be there.

Once Adso finally got bored of interacting with people and instead decided to go over to his recently filled food dish, Claire was returned to Jamie. 

He walked over to where she sat cross-legged on the floor and offered her his hands. 

“Here, Sassenach.” 

She took them, slipping them into his in that distinct way she always did— as if her hands fit perfectly into his— and he helped her to her feet. 

When she was standing, facing him and only mere inches away, she didn’t let go of his hands. 

“Why do ye call me that?” she asked inquisitively. 

“Oh, ‘Sassenach’?” Honestly, Jamie hadn’t even realized he’d been doing it. He had nearly a dozen names and terms of endearment for her already swimming in his head. He hadn’t known he’d said that one outloud. 

“Yes. I’m hardly an english person,” she said. She sounded slightly offended, and Jamie hastened to clear it up. 

“Och, no… I dinna mean it like that. I jes’ mean… ye’re an outlander tae me. Someone not of this world-- or the human world that is. I’m sorry, I didna mean offense. It’s jes’ what I’ve taken tae callin’ ye in my head.” 

Claire smiled indulgently, a genuine warmth lighting her features. “You can call me whatever you like.”

Jamie awkwardly withdrew his hands from her grasp and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. He rocked on his heels, and then started toward the living room. 

“Here, we can sit. I suppose we ought tae talk some more. Do ye have any questions for me, lass?” 

He walked into the living room and plopped himself down on the couch. Claire followed behind. 

As he sat watching her walk across the room, she beelined straight toward him instead of sitting on the other couch or two chairs. Much to his surprise, she strode over in that strange manner she had in which she did something odd with complete confidence, and then she promptly sat down on his lap. 

Jamie was so taken aback that he simply froze as she settled in, her legs perpendicular over his and arms looping comfortably over his shoulders. 

“What are ye doin’?” He choked through a dried throat. 

“Sitting with you,” she answered. It wasn’t a question, but it was phrased with the barest hint of a raise at the end that indicated she was wondering why he would ask about such an obvious thing. 

He coughed. After struggling internally for a moment between telling her humans found it improper to do such a thing and simply enjoying her wee body curled into him, he decided to let her be. Besides, in the privacy of his own home, who was to judge their behavior? 

So, he wrapped his arms around her comfortably and tugged her closer. She had been studying him the whole time he was debating with himself, but at that moment, she laid her head down on his shoulder and really cozied up. 

He was startled to find she was shivering against him even in the warmth of his house. Anxiety started to knot his wame and he wondered if aught was amiss. 

“Are ye alright, mo nighean donn? Ye’re shakin’.”

“It’s cold,” she said. She burrowed impossibly further into his arms and he held her even closer to him. 

“But it’s not, lass, the heat is on. Ye have me worrit...” 

He  _ was  _ worried, beginning to wonder whether something was seriously wrong with her. 

She straightened up to look at him. “Oh, you shouldn’t worry. It’s just that I’m a summer fae of the Seelie court—“ He gave her a bewildered look and she cut herself off to explain. “The seelie court are the benevolent ones of the fair folk. We are kind towards humans, you see. Occasionally my people will heal a wandering traveler or help one lost in the woods.” When Jamie nodded in vague understanding (or at least enough for the time being), she continued, “I’m of the summer court, so I’ve never actually experienced another season until I touched the stone, and suddenly it seems I’ve become susceptible to all of Scotland’s weather. A queer thing, temperature... I’m alright though, just chilly.” 

She suddenly leaned in and punctuated her statement by pressing her face into his neck and nuzzling gently. “But you’re warm,” she breathed reverently. 

His breath caught and all he could manage was a Scottish hum of agreement that barely made it past his dry throat. His brain just kept screeching “you’re holding her! She’s in your lap!— Stop, pull it together, Fraser! But she’s so _tiny._ _So soft.”_

When fingers started to gently trace down his chest, following the line between pectorals, Jamie thought his heart would stop altogether. 

_ There was no doubt about it. He was falling for her. Head over heels and ass over tea kettle— somersaulting like a damn gymnast.  _

Immediately after that realization came a second. 

“Claire?” He asked hesitantly, fearful of the answer that would break his heart, “are ye wantin’ tae go back? To the stones?” 

She jerked her head off his shoulder and looked at him in horror. “No, no, no. I can’t experience that again. It’ll kill me, I know it will. Please, Jamie, don’t take me back there now.” She pleaded with him, tears of fear and desperation glistening in her golden eyes, “please no.” 

Her fingers scrambled against his shirt as she begged him, and he could feel how her anxiety had ramped up several notches through the thrum of alarm buzzing through her body. 

“Hush, hush, a nighean,” he quickly soothed before she could panic any further, “dinna fash, I willna make you go back.” He took her head in both of her hands and gently stroked her hair back several times in reassurance. He ended by cupping her face and forcing her to look him in the eyes as he promised, “I willna bring harm tae ye, ever. As long as ye’re with me, I will see ye safe.” 

She took a long, shaky inhale, obviously still rattled by the thought of going through that ordeal again. As she blinked the tears away, Jamie drew her into a hug. 

He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her close. She melted into him in answer, and her head fit perfectly under his chin. A little tentatively, her arms snaked around his waist. He stroked soothing circles into her back and murmured some quiet Gaelic nonsense over her. 

Jamie embraced her for what seemed like hours. His touch held the promise of everything he couldn’t yet tell her aloud. Her wee shudders slowly died down, and could tell the grip of fear was loosening. 

“I don’t want to talk about any more of that,” she said in a tiny, breathy voice. 

“Ye dinna have to,” he softly reassured. 

He hugged her closer, repeating again-- softer this time-- “ye dinna have to.” 

And if Jamie had his way, nothing on God’s good earth would hurt her the way the stones had ever again. Not if he had anything to say about it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel I have to explain myself... the unseelie/seelie and winter, summer, etc. affiliations are real lore, but that's about as far as my research went before I started taking my own liberties. But don't worry, more revelations will be coming soon to sweet, bewildered Jamie!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and for your responses, you guys are the best!!! Much love <3 <3


	4. A Fall of Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire delights in a new experience, and later comes to a startling realization.

Jamie couldn’t stand the look of pain still etched into that bonny face as Claire thought about the stones. He longed to tell her aloud all the vows his heart was making, but that would have been very foolish indeed. 

No, he would honor her request of not talking about the stones. What she really needed was a distraction. 

Her eyes were still downcast and clouded with thought. Jamie carded his fingers through her curls briefly in one last wordless reassurance and then caught her chin with two fingers to draw her face up to look at him. 

“Do ye maybe want a shower? That always helps me feel better,” he offered with a smile. 

She blinked, and much to his relief, the charged atmosphere dissolved in an instant. 

“A shower?” She mimicked the word but it came out slightly funny as she struggled to form the unfamiliar pronunciation. 

Jamie chuckled. “I keep forgetting. Do ye not bathe then?” 

“Of course I do,” she looked affronted, “in the loch. But what does that have to do with this ‘shower’ of yours?”

“Oh, ye’re in for a real treat, lass.” 

With some fortitude he wasn’t sure he possessed, he detached himself from her. He led her to the bathroom and set to work getting the water warming. When she followed in behind him, she tried to immediately strip her tee-shirt off. He stopped her with a stilling hand on hers (which were crossed over each other and gripping the edge of her shirt, mere seconds away from--). He let out an indulgent chuckle.

“Wait until I’ve left, mo nighean donn.” 

She leveled him with a wide-eyed golden look. “You won’t go far?” she asked a little anxiously. 

He shook his head with a smile. “I’ll be just outside.” 

Pulling the shower curtain away once more, he stuck his hand in and found it to be the perfect temperature. He tugged it open the rest of the way and stood aside to show Claire the water. She peeked hesitantly inside, and her look of wary confusion quickly morphed into amazement. 

“It’s like rain,” she exclaimed as she turned and looked at him, wonderment lighting her eyes. 

“Aye,” he laughed, “but jes’ wait until ye stand beneath it.” 

He showed her the towels to dry off with when she was done, and then reassured her one last time that he would be just outside. Then, he ducked out of the bathroom and shut the door behind him. 

Jamie rested his back on the door and indulgently pressed his ear to it. He was admittedly eager to hear her reactions if not also a bit concerned that she might slip and fall despite his warnings. The telltale scratching sounds of plastic loops of the shower curtains indicated that Claire had stepped in. A second later he heard a cry of delight. 

“It’s  _ warm! _ ” she squealed in what could only be blissful excitement. 

“I kent ye’d love it,” he called in. 

He heard gleeful laughing and splashing, and could only imagine Claire— her hands outstretched with palms lifted to catch the water, her face upturned toward the showerhead with a radiant smile, drops of water splashing over those perfect shoulders and creamy white skin to trace down…

_ -Christ! Dinna disrespect the lass like that.  _

He took a tight rein on his wandering thoughts and instead called in, “ye can use a wee bit of that soap as well. In the bottle on the side there. Ye rub it on yer skin and then wash it off.” 

Instead of a reply, there was a loud  _ clunk  _ from the bathroom, and Jamie’s heart leapt to his throat. His instinct was to immediately rush inside, but first he forced himself to anxiously call, “Claire?” 

“Sorry, just dropped it. It’s slippery,” came the reply. 

Jamie let out the breath he’d been holding in a huge but shaky exhale. His heartbeat slowed immediately and he couldn’t help but laugh at his overreaction. Claire just seemed to bring out every ounce of protective instinct in him. Maybe it was her vulnerability paired with curious naivety, maybe it was the circumstances in which he’d found her, or maybe it was just something about their connection, but Jamie had never felt anything of the sort. He wasn’t exactly what people would call the alpha-male possessive type. His previous flings (not that he’d had many nor had they stayed around long) were always very independent from him. They were like two ships passing in the night-- barely a connection, just occasional proximity. They had never needed him nor him them. But with Claire… God— with Claire it seemed that she needed him. And it was growing more and more apparent with every second that he needed her just as much, albeit not in the exact same way. 

He was interrupted from his musings when the bathroom door that Jamie was leaning on suddenly opened and he nearly came crashing inside. His hands caught the doorframe to keep him from falling, and when he straightened, he came face to face with a wide-eyed and apologetic Claire, wrapped in a towel with droplets of water dripping from her curls and beaded all over her skin. 

“Sorry,” she stuttered. 

He stood frozen in front of her, still startled by her abrupt opening of the door, but mostly he was taking in her appearance and trying to get his brain to restart. 

_ She’s sae bonny.  _

“I couldn’t figure out how to stop it,” she admitted, giving a vague point in the direction of the shower that was still running. 

“Oh… aye,” Jamie said dazedly. He snapped himself back into the moment and hastily added, “I’ll take care of it while ye go to yer room and get dressed again, aye?” 

She nodded at his suggestion and scooped up her discarded clothes. Then she stood looking at him expectantly. He wondered for a second why she was just standing there before he realized he was still frozen in the doorway and blocking her path. 

“Eh… sorry,” he murmured as he stepped aside and allowed her to exit the bathroom. 

He couldn’t help but stare after her as she walked down the hall toward the bedroom. Squeezing his eyes shut in self admonishment, he quickly turned away and stepped into the bathroom to shut off the shower. Truth be told, he needed one of his own, but he couldn’t yet bear to leave her alone for long enough for him to do so. He absently mopped up the small puddles of water Claire had made on the bathroom floor, and then he left the bathroom and returned to the living room to wait for Claire on the couch. 

Nearly a second later, before he had any time to get into his own head and begin contemplating again, Claire returned. Her damp curls rested on her shoulders making his tee-shirt a bit damp. Even wet she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. 

She gave him a smile, as if reading his thoughts, and began to head straight for him again. This time, she sat down next to him and nestled into his side. Flustered for only a second, he recovered and put an arm around her so she could burrow in further. Then, she brought her knees across his lap to rest her folded legs over his. 

“I liked-- what did you call it? Shower? Well, I liked it very much,” she commented happily as she looked up at him. 

His voice was low as he answered tenderly, “good, I’m glad. I kent ye would.” 

As he was speaking, Claire’s hands began to wander over him. Her fingers touched at the edge of his jaw, just below his ear, and rubbed the corner of it. He couldn’t remember someone ever touching him just there, and an odd sensation gripped him in his wame. But he found he liked it-- just that slight fluttering of excitement and the tingling going through his face where she touched him. 

He wanted so desperately for her to continue her strange explorations of him that he felt he must keep perfectly still and silent in order to not break the spell. Not moving his head, he glanced down at her to see her expression was that of enrapturement. 

Her hand traveled higher, tracing the shell of his ear with a feather-light touch. It was amazing to Jamie how just the barest hint of her skin on his could rattle him so. 

Then, without warning, she buried her hand deep into his mussed hair, fingers sinking deep into the curls. 

He had started a bit at her suddenness, but instantly melted as her fingers began to press delightfully into his scalp and massage in little circles. A sigh automatically tumbled from his lips.

“Are all fair folk sae tactile?” he asked as a laugh rumbled deep in his chest at her odd affectionate and intimate behavior. 

“Hmmm?” she murmured, still enthralled by his hair. But then she jerked her gaze suddenly to meet his, as if his words had finally penetrated her brain, and she flushed a very becoming shade of pink. (Jamie was glad to see that he wasn’t the only one who seemed to lose all brain functions). 

“Oh... no, ah-” she withdrew her hand from his hair and leaned away a bit, her body parting from his, “I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” 

He quickly caught her hand and squeezed it, as if that could pull her back to him. Perhaps the right thing to do would have been to keep the more appropriate space between them, but Jamie couldn’t help but reinitiate contact; he couldn’t seem to be without it. 

“I like it jes’ fine,” he murmured, his voice coming out huskier than he’d intended. 

At that, her lips quirked up in a smile and all hesitancy vanished. She scooted closer to him, molded herself to his side once more, and then went back to his hair again— this time both hands smoothing up his nape to tangle in his curls and pet him gently. 

Jamie couldn’t have wiped the smile off his face if he tried. 

“You’re so beautiful…” she said under her breath, perhaps mostly to herself as her fingers carded through the curls, “I’ve never seen this color hair before.” He felt a finger brush his forehead and then twirl a wayward strand around it, “like the red of a stag, but with bits of sunlight glinting through it…” 

He didn’t have time to respond because suddenly the loud  _ ding-dong _ of his doorbell rang through the house and sent Claire jolting back in alarm, back ramrod straight and head whipping in the direction the sound came from. 

“Dinna fash, it only means someone is at the door,” he explained (already mourning the loss of her hands on him), “stay here.” 

He got up from the couch and walked to the entryway. Unlocking the door and freeing the bolt, he opened it to reveal a postman holding a package. 

“Good day, sir,” the postman greeted. His eyes flicked over Jamie’s shoulder and he added with a polite nod, “ma’am.” 

Jamie’s head swiveled in surprise, and he saw Claire had followed him and was peeking warily around the corner like a shy animal. Her eyes went wide as watermelons when the postman addressed her, and she quickly disappeared behind the wall. 

He returned his attention to the postman and hastily signed the sheet on the clipboard with the proffered pen and then accepted the package. A quick “good day” was all he managed before he shut the door, locked it, and rushed back to Claire. 

Abandoning the package on the desk, he made his way over to her. She was standing in the corner of the kitchen, her arms wrapped around herself and eyes distant. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, a hint of urgency creeping into his tone. 

He couldn’t help but reach out his hands to smooth up and down her arms. The touch seemed to calm her somewhat— as he was finding out that it often did— and a bit of the tenseness in her shoulders lessened. But only a fraction. 

“It’s not just you,” she whispered, nearly under her breath. 

He made an interrogative sound in his throat. 

“He could see me, too,” she said softly, looking down with her brow furrowed. 

Jamie wasn’t exactly sure of the implications, but the gravity of her tone and how upset she was indicated that it wasn’t good. He gave her an encouraging nod to continue. 

“Like I told you, that shouldn’t happen. You see, the fair folk operate on a different plane than you do. That’s why you can’t see us and we rarely leave a mark on your world. Unless we choose. We can open the veil into your plane to reveal ourselves. But all the time with you, and just now— I haven’t been. I think…” she trailed off, her eyes growing stormy and her words catching in her throat. Her voice had been growing thicker and thicker with emotion, and now it stopped entirely. 

Jamie left one hand on her arm and reached the other down to catch her hand in his. 

“What is it, a nighean?” he asked gently. 

She looked up at him again. “I had a theory, but it seems even more likely now. It feels different here... It would make everything make sense,” she said disjointedly. 

She looked so saddened by it that Jamie was growing worried. 

“Tell me,” he encouraged, trying to keep his tone soft and calm amidst the growing anxiety for her. 

Once more, her wide-eyed gaze fixed on him. “I think the stones brought me to the human plane of existence.  _ This  _ plane.” 

Jamie nodded, still a little confused. “Aye…?” 

“So,” she said, “I don’t think I can ever go home.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the continued love and support. It means so much! <3 <3 Hope you all are safe and well!


	5. You Can Never Go Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire deal with the fallout of her revelation.

“What do ye mean, ye canna go home?” Jamie asked as his own concern began to ramp up in earnest. 

Claire was trembling again, her hand anxiously squeezing his and her free arm still wrapped tightly around herself. Drawn to comfort her, Jamie gathered her into a one-armed hug and pressed her against him. He could feel her distress pulsing through her like an electric current. 

She rested her temple on his collarbone— deflated by the enormity of what she was saying and desperate for safe harbor— and then she finally expanded.

“I don’t know anything, Jamie, really. But if I’m right, the only way I could return to my plane of existence— to my realm and the seelie court— is to go back through the stones. But I can’t do that, Jamie, I can’t. I think it might kill me.” 

During her revelation, a flurry of emotions was swirling inside Jamie so vehemently that he lost hold on the present for a second. His heart was breaking for her. The thought of being forever stranded in an unfamiliar place— away from her home and people— the terror and loss must have been debilitating. At the same time, some secret part of Jamie was rejoicing. Losing her so soon after she’d dropped into his life and changed him forever would have crushed him. But if she really couldn’t go home, that meant that she would stay with him…. 

Jamie could only dare to hope about the possibilities. 

But as soon as that thought surfaced, he began to feel guilt twisting in his middle. She was quite obviously suffering. Her body was shaking against him, overcome by the gravity of the realization, and here he was delighting in her news. 

Hooking a finger under her chin, he raised her face to look up at him and saw her eyes were glittering with tears. 

“Listen to me, mo nighean donn,  _ ye’re no’ alone _ . I’m right here wi’ ye, and I willna let anythin’ happen to ye. If this is true, ye can stay wi’ me for however long ye choose, and I will care for ye and see ye safe.” 

Tears dripped from her face and onto his hand where it remained rested gently under her face. She nodded a little against him, lips wobbling as she tried to hold back the tide of her emotions. His heart broke for her all over again. 

“Come here,” was all he could say, and then he was wrapping her fully in his arms. 

She went willingly, all but collapsing onto his chest. Both of her hands clutched one of his arms and she buried her face into his shoulder. The moment their bodies made contact, she began to cry. Hitched sobs escaped her as she tried to contain the onslaught. 

“It’s alright, mo Sorcha, let it out,” he murmured into her hair. 

She did, and simply cried against him as the reality and weight of what was going on truly hit. And all he could do was hold her. 

He didn’t like seeing her like this. Ever since she’d woken up in his arms while he was carrying her down from the stones, Claire had been so incredibly brave. She’d been taking everything miraculously in stride. Curious and inquisitive, she was bold in her explorations and delighted in the human world. Now though, she seemed thoroughly broken. More than wary, she was fearful of the unknown she’d been thrust into without any possibility of return to what she knew. It was one thing to explore, he supposed, but quite another to be condemned to a life of the unfamiliar. 

In that moment, Jamie promised himself that he’d make this world safe for her so that she’d never have to feel this kind of fear again. 

And if she’d let him, he’d walk beside her through it. 

“We’ll sort it out,” he whispered, “no matter what. Together.” 

She nodded against him, tear-soaked face pressing against his shirt. It would surely be stained and damp, but it was of no import. 

He brought a hand up to her neck, cupping the tiny curve of the base of her skull, and began to knead his thumb in gentle circles there. At the same time, Gaelic started to flow instinctively from his lips, and he made shushing sounds in between the mindless reassurances.  _ It’ll be alright. I’m here, mo nighean donn. Dinna weep.  _ All of this and more he whispered into her hair, his lips barely brushing it as he breathed the words. 

A whimper escaped her as she cried, and if his heart wasn’t already shattered into a million pieces at seeing her like this, that tiny sound would have obliterated it. 

He had no idea how long he stood there— holding her as she cried for the life she had lost— but it felt like hours to him. Finally, she began to calm. Her crying subsided and breathing slowed until she went quiet against him. 

Carefully, he drew back to look down at her. The bonny face was streaked with tear stains and her lips looked somehow a deeper color than usual. Her golden-eyes held grief, ringed with red, and moisture beaded on the long, dark lashes. But behind it all was an incredible strength. A determination held in those whiskey depths. 

He cupped her face with both hands and began to gently smooth his thumbs over her cheeks to clear away the tear tracks. 

“Ye’re sae strong. I ken ye’ll be okay no matter what happens,” he told her with complete conviction. 

That brought another single tear rolling silently down her cheek. She held his gaze as it made its slow trail downward, as if pleading for him to make it all better. He wished to God that he had that power. But there was nothing he could do, save perhaps distraction. 

“Here, I have another thing to show ye that I think ye might like,” he said as a thought struck him. 

Letting go of her face to instead take her hand, he led her across the room to the counter where a box of tissues lay. With his free hand, he withdrew one, and then gently used it to clean her face as he explained, “we use them to dry tears and such.” As he wiped away the moisture on her cheeks, one of her hands raised to take the edge between her fingers and rub cautiously. 

“It’s soft,” she commented with a tremulous laugh and a watery smile. 

The way she said it— a hint of her usual delight and awe creeping into her voice despite her sorrow— made Jamie indescribably happy. 

“That’s what I thought ye’d say,” he chuckled fondly. 

It seemed to have been just the thing to help her, because once he’d finished drying her face, she straightened up and mustered another smile for Jamie. 

“Will ye show me more things?” she asked. Her voice was still thick with emotion but she seemed eager to gather herself. 

“Of course,” he said, his tone still laced with soft understanding. 

Jamie’s thoughts raced as he tried to come up with the best thing to show her that would take her mind off things. The TV came first to mind, but he quickly dismissed that as being just a bit too overwhelming for this moment. They’d have to work up to that. Jamie thought about everything he knew Claire liked, and suddenly the perfect idea came into his head. 

“There’s somethin’ I think ye’ll like verra much in the basement. That’s eh— the level below this.” 

His house’s basement was small— just a carpeted room with a couple odd couches, his old tv, and Adso’s litter box haphazardly arranged. Jamie didn’t spend much time down there, and as a result, didn’t bother cranking up the heat enough to warm it much. Being low as it was, it was always cold. 

He led Claire by the hand down the steps. She seemed a bit wary of descending but simply clutched his hand and followed. When they emerged downstairs and he flicked on the lights, her gaze swept over the room. She looked at him inquisitively, obviously wondering what exactly he was going to show her here (it was admittedly quite unimpressive, apparently even to a faerie). 

Giving her a smile, half to reassure her and half in excitement for the kick she was likely to get out of what he had to show her, he strode over to the little machine that lay in between the couches, pointed it toward Claire, and pressed the “on” button. 

“This is called a space heater,” he announced proudly. 

It was a small, portable one, about a foot tall and with one opening so the heat all went in one direction, but it created a remarkable warmth. 

The moment Claire felt the heat emanating from the machine and blowing onto her legs, her face spread into a wide smile. She eagerly leaned down, hands outstretched toward the machine in fascination. A laugh bubbled from her as she delighted in the feel of the hot air. 

But Jamie noticed that she was reaching even closer, and quickly caught her wrist before her fingers could make contact with the heated grate.

“Dinna touch it, it’s too hot,” he warned, “but ye can be jes’ by it.” 

She gave him a single nod, looked back at the machine, and then suddenly plopped down to the floor. Crossing her legs, she scooted as close to the heater as she could and hovered her hands in front of it, just like one would warm their hands in front of a campfire. 

“It’s so warm!” she squealed, and wiggled her fingers, luxuriating in the flow of hot air. 

Jamie was patting himself on the back for how well he was beginning to know her. As much delight as she was getting from the wee contraption, he was getting just as much— if not more— from seeing the carefree happiness return to her bonny face. The smile that lit up his life was turned up toward him as Claire looked for his response. 

“Aye, I believe I have ye all figured out, Sassenach,” he teased, “the way to yer heart is all things soft and warm.” 

She playfully narrowed her eyes, a glimmer of humor there that reassured Jamie immensely. 

“I think I may still surprise you yet, my lad.” 

Jamie laughed. “Och, I dinna doubt it.” 

As Claire turned her attention back to enjoying the space heater, twisting and turning her body so that the warmth touched every part of it, Jamie thought about what to do next. His mind just barely started to leap to long term implications—  _ Christ, his job! He had to work tomorrow. And she’d need clothes. And— _

He had to stop himself before he went mad. What he needed to do was to focus on taking things one step at a time. At some point when Claire was well and truly occupied, maybe when she went to sleep for the night, he’d sit down and try to think through everything. But for the time being, he just wanted to continue to distract her so she didn’t fall back into that horrible despair. 

When his eyes refocused on the scene in front of him, Claire looked like she would have been hugging the machine to herself if she was allowed. She was huddled as close to it as she possibly could be, absorbing every bit of warmth. 

“Do ye want tae see more? I could show ye the rest of the house so ye feel a wee bit more comfortable. Ye could ask me all yer questions…” 

Just as Jamie was finishing making his offer, Claire’s hand shot up, grabbed Jamie's, and tugged him down. Startled as he was, he went with her pull, and plopped down on the floor next to her. 

“Just another minute...” she purred, and he could only laugh in response. 

Since Claire was cuddled so close to the space heater, her body blocked any heat from actually reaching Jamie. He didn’t mind, but settled himself slightly further back so that he was behind Claire and comfortably resting back against the bottom of the couch as he waited for her to finish basking. 

To his surprise, Claire scooted backward, shoving her way in between his splayed legs so she could recline against his chest. Jamie was so taken aback— as he always was when she touched him so brazenly, making his mind spin— that he simply complied when she took both of his arms and wrapped them around her. He found himself hugging her from behind as she let out a contented sigh and rested her temple against his jaw. 

There wasn’t a single thought in his head about what he was doing as he instinctively turned his face just a bit to press his lips to the soft skin of her temple. 

She didn’t seem to mind at all. She didn’t even react. But the second after he did it, a wave of guilt surged over him. It wasn’t his right to kiss her like that; Claire wasn’t his to kiss. Sure, she’d initiated all this contact that made his heart flutter, and sure he was absolutely falling for her, but he’d known her for only two days. Her entire world has just crumbled out from underneath her feet, and he was her only anchor. He couldn’t possibly take advantage of her with his romantic inclinations. Not to mention, she wasn’t even human. Although for some reason that argument didn’t dissuade him as much as the thought that Claire might feel obligated to return his affections in exchange for his help. He couldn’t do that to her. It wasn’t fair. 

He wanted to run away from her, to withdraw himself and put some distance between them so he could finally think clearly. He wasn’t entirely sure that he’d be able to control himself when she nestled up so close to him like this. But the thought of withholding physical comfort which she so clearly desired, even needed… it was intolerable. So he stayed put. 

Claire was completely unaware of the turmoil going on in Jamie’s mind, and she sighed contentedly against him. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest as it nudged his with each inhale and exhale. That feeling of closeness did nothing to help the clenching of affection in his heart. 

_ Damn it, Fraser, pull yourself together. You can be her friend— her guide— her protector— but leave foolish notions of anything more out of it.  _

She tilted her head to peer up at him. 

“Are you alright?” she asked, apparently seeing the expression on his face that must have been something close to heartbreak as he agonized over her. 

“Jes’ fine,” he mustered a smile, “have ye had enough warmth now tae get ye through a wee walk about the house?” 

She chuckled at that, and it sent vibrations through her that Jamie could feel reverberate through his own body. 

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of this, but I’m ready for what else you have to show me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter, my word count on AO3 has reached over 100k. I just wanted to say a HUGE thank you to you guys. A year ago, I would never have guessed that I would be sharing my writing with anyone, and I am truly overwhelmed by every kind kudos and comment you guys leave. I think I've grown a lot, or at least challenged myself to try different things, and for that I'm proud of myself. But honestly I highly doubt I would have undertaken these works without such support from y'all. Thank you so much for sticking with me and (hopefully) here's to another 100k!


	6. Bonded Pair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get more difficult for Jamie as he struggles to keep himself in check.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you’ve probably noticed by now, I’m taking this story very moment-by-moment. I’m trying to really develop things and not rely on time jumps because as a reader I hate when the author just skips over stuff I wanted to see. With that being said, it might be helpful to refresh yourself on the end of the previous chapter when I update, because the chapters generally pick up right where the last left off. Hard to believe (at least for me), but Jamie and Claire have only had two days together so far. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

Jamie was just about to stand up (unsure of how exactly he was going to do so with Claire still reclining on his chest and giving no indication that she was interested in moving) when suddenly his stomach let out a loud grumble. 

Claire had jerked away and was twisted to look at him in concern before his stomach had even stopped its growl. There wasn’t even a chance to explain. She thrust a hand out to place over his stomach, palm flat against it and oh-so tiny, and she looked up at him with such earnest worry. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked. 

Her free hand came up to rest on his jaw. He could feel her thrumming with concern over him. 

Jamie found himself enjoying her attentions so much that he almost didn’t want to explain to her that there was nothing to worry about. But her brows were furrowed and she was studying him anxiously, so he quickly explained. 

“Dinna fash. That’s just my body telling me that I need to eat.” 

In all the excitement, food had been the last thing on his mind. He spared a glance down at his watch and found it to be 14:10. Seems he’d forgotten all about lunch. 

Claire was giving him a look of admonishment. “You need to care for yourself,” she said, looking disturbed, “if your body is telling you that, it’s for a reason.” 

He gave her a dismissive half-shrug. “I jes’ forget wi’ everythin’ goin’ on. Humans usually eat three times a day, ken? I already had my first meal, which we call breakfast, and now it seems I missed lunch, the second meal.” 

“We need to get you it then,” she exclaimed. She shot to her feet and reached a dainty hand down to him. When he didn’t immediately move, she added an urgent, “come now!” 

Jamie snorted a good-natured huff through his nose at her rush, but took her hand and allowed her to try to haul him to his feet (really, he did most of the work himself, but wanted her to feel useful). 

“It’s alright,” he laughed as she started dragging him by the hand toward the stairs, “I’m okay. It willna harm me tae miss a meal.” 

She stopped and turned around, brows knit together so there were two wee creases between them that Jamie wanted to reach out and trace over with his thumb. But he resisted, and met her eyes instead. 

“Your body is telling you to eat, so you’ll eat,” she said decisively, “come on.” 

They went together to the kitchen, where Claire looked at him expectantly. He sat her down on a stool of the island and began to prepare some chicken. As he cooked, he narrated to Claire what he was doing and tried to explain the basics, but he had a feeling that most of it went over her head. And he certainly did  _ not _ explain what the chicken had once been. 

When it was finally done, Jamie sat down at his kitchen table and Claire wandered after to sit across from him. 

As he ate, Claire propped her elbows on the tabletop and rested her chin on her hands. She watched with fascination, those whiskey eyes wide to take in his every move. He felt like a bit of a lab rate under a microscope, which was rather disconcerting. Ignoring good manners of not speaking with food in one’s mouth (she wouldn’t know the difference anyway), he broke the silence. 

“Sorry fer makin’ ye wait while I eat,” he said simply to fill the space. 

“Don’t be sorry,” she said in an upbeat tone, “I like watching you.” 

“Och, aye? Why’s that?” he teased between a bite. 

“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. And I care about you,” she stated very simply. 

Jamie nearly choked on his food. She was so straightforward in her statement.  _ She likely didn’t even see the implications of saying that to him. No wonder he was heart-sick over her when she said such things and touched him without shame and climbed into his bed and looked at him like he was her everything and...  _

But it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t know any better. 

He quickly gathered his wits and countered playfully, “am I no’ one of the  _ only _ human men ye’ve ever seen?” 

She chuckled a little. “Well, yes. But I just mean…” she struggled with herself over how to express the next part before saying, “of the men I’ve seen, but also of all the fair folk, I’ve never seen someone as perfect as you.” 

If Jamie could have smacked himself without drawing attention, he would have delivered a solid one upside his head over the way his heart foolishly leapt at her words. 

Despite the fact that he’d promised to himself not to act on his feelings for her, he couldn’t help but say, “Well, ye’re the bonniest lass I’ve ever laid eyes on, so I supposed we’re even.” 

Claire smiled at that, and even eliciting that reaction from her gave him the forbidden urge to do everything in his power to make her smile like that for every moment of every day for the rest of his life. Jamie was quickly being carried off by his fancies and it was only getting harder and harder to resist the affection that welled up in him at every damn thing she did… 

Jamie quickly went back to finishing his food. They passed the rest of his meal in silence, seemingly Claire was just as lost in her own thoughts as he was in his. Afterwards, he cleaned up quickly, and then began showing Claire around the house as promised. 

He led her by the hand— her insistence, he justified, not his— around to each room. Her bedroom, of course, his (which she’d found no problem last night), the bathroom (where an awkward conversation about the function of a toilet had ensued), and Jamie’s study. 

“What’s this?” Claire asked, pointing toward the laptop on his desk. 

“That is… well, that is verra difficult to explain. Maybe save it for another day?” 

He placed a hand on her lower back to steer her towards the door. A familiar zing raced through him as he touched her, and he felt absurdly like his hand was glued to the spot. He couldn’t seem to remove it. She was warm under his palm, and he could feel the curve of her flesh where it made a divot at her spine. His hand was so big and her back so small that his fingers spanned the entire area. As he led her downstairs again, his hand remained rooted to the spot. 

_ No harm _ , he figured,  _ as long as Claire didna mind _ . And it seemed that she enjoyed it just as much as she did any other touch. 

She had seen most of the downstairs already. Still, he went through each room— the kitchen, dining room, living room, downstairs bathroom, even the entryway, and the hallway that led down to the basement. To end his tour, though, he was excited to show Claire the back garden. 

He led her outside and proudly showed off the backside of his property. Off to the right was the vegetable patch, admittedly a little under loved, with various plants and herbs growing there. 

Claire let out a squee of excitement and let go of his hand to run toward it like an energized child. She knelt down in the dirt to run her hands all over the plants, heedless of the mess she was making on his (hers now, really) sweatpants. (Not that Jamie particularly minded, he had more. He just enjoyed seeing her excited). 

“They could use a bit more love,” she commented, shooting him a slightly admonishing look out of the corner of her eye, “but I am glad you have this bit of nature with you. Don’t you feel stuffed up being in there all the time?” She gave a wave of distaste in the general direction of the house. 

“Jes’ remember, lass,” he chuckled, “inside is where it’s warm. Canna say the same for out here.” 

As if on cue, a shudder ran down Claire’s body. She grimaced and wrapped her arms around herself. Gooseflesh was already popping up on her skin, and he kent well that she’d be a trembling mess if he didn’t get her inside soon. 

“Come on, Sassenach. Let’s get ye out of the cold. Ye can come back out and show some love tae the plants once we get ye a proper coat.” 

He reached down and took her elbow to help her up. She went willingly, pressing herself into Jamie’s side as he began to walk toward the house. In order to keep from tripping over her, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and synced his steps to hers. It seemed that to be nestled against him was exactly what she’d wanted, because she gave him a smile as they walked inside together. 

The sun was already going down since it was getting late, and Jamie realized that it was time to take some action. He hadn’t thought too far yet into the future, but what he did know was that there was no way in hell he was leaving Claire alone tomorrow while he went into work. However, perks of being the boss were that you didn’t always have to come in. He’d just have to call to let them know. 

He didn’t want Claire to fash herself about what was going on with all that, so once they got inside, he asked her if she could entertain herself for a little bit while he took care of some things. She gave a nod (looking a little too eager at the prospect for his taste), and then he left her downstairs while he went up to his study. 

Once safely inside with the door shut, he sat down at his desk and picked up his phone. He dialed Ian, his brother-in-law and business partner, and waited for his friend to pick up.

“Jamie!” came Ian’s enthusiastic voice, “I havna heard from ye since work on Friday and wondered if ye’d gone hikin’ and fallen down a hole.” 

Jamie had to resist the urge to say “something like that,” but instead got straight to the point and answered with a simple, “I’ve been busy. Listen, Ian, somethin’ has come up, and I canna come intae work tomorrow.” 

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. Ye havna missed a day in God-knows-how-long, and now ye expect to jes’ ‘not come in’ wi’ no word of explanation other than ‘somethin’s come up’? Spill, Jamie.” 

He should have known better than to think Ian would accept it without pressing him for details. Truth be told, he hadn’t actually thought through  _ what  _ to tell him if he asked. He couldn’t very well say that he’d rescued a faerie from atop a magic hill and now he doesn’t want to leave her. Suppressing a sigh, he pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. 

“Aye, I havna missed a day in years, Ian. Which is exactly why I deserve a day off wi’out ye grillin’ me. Everythin’s fine. I jes’ need some time.” 

He could hear Ian’s eye roll over the phone. “Alright, I’ll let ye off the hook for now, brother. But dinna think ye’re gettin’ away wi’ this. Especially when I tell Jenny about how strange ye’re bein’.”

Jamie groaned. “Dinna drag my sister into this. I’m jes’ askin’ fer a day off, no’ announcin’ I’m fleein’ the country.”

“All this could be avoided if ye’d only tell me what’s goin’ on wi’ ye.” 

“Goodbye, Ian,” Jamie said pointedly. 

“Alright, ye bugger. Goodbye. I’ll talk tae ye soon.” 

With that, he hung up. And Jamie was free to head back to his Sassenach. 

_ Not his _ , he corrected himself firmly. 

He gave a cursory glance into the rooms on his way downstairs, but he didn’t really think she’d be in there. When he didn’t find her in the kitchen, he paused briefly to preheat the oven for something or other he could throw in. Claire wasn’t in the living room either, and he was starting to wonder what the devil she was getting up to. His heart jumped to his throat when his brain suddenly questioned whether she had left. But that was highly unlikely, she had nowhere to go after all, and he shoved that aside. 

Suddenly, it came to him that he knew exactly where she was, and he headed there. 

Just as expected, Claire was sitting cross-legged in front of the space heater, Adso curled on her lap, and both of their eyes were closed in relaxed bliss. 

Jamie cleared his throat, and two sets of eyes— one gold and one green— flicked to him in startlement. 

“Interrupting something?” he joked. 

Claire smiled— both in greeting and triumph. 

“I figured out how to turn it on.” 

“I see that,” he said as he made his way toward her and sat down next to her a respectful distance away, “verra canny. I searched for ye for a bit. I shouldha known exactly where ye’d be.” 

“Shower was a close second,” she admitted, “but I didn’t think I could manage that one alone.” 

They were both quiet for a second. Everything was still save Claire’s rhythmic stroking of Adso’s fur. 

“How are ye feelin’?” he asked after a time. 

She tilted her head. “I’m fine. I haven’t felt any ill effects from the stones at all today,” she answered dismissively. 

“I meant... with  _ all this _ .” He raised a hand in an abortive circle, indicating the enormity of the situation. 

Her hands stilled on Adso, and he wanted desperately to take them in his. But for once, she didn’t reach for him or offer touch, so he left the little bit of space between them undisturbed and swallowed down his disappointment. 

“I  _ am  _ alright,” she said, but sounded hesitant, as if she was trying to convince herself as well, “it’s just a lot to take in. I’m scared, of course…” there was a slight trembling in her hands where they were buried in the cat’s fur, “but I’m glad you’re here.” 

She ended by rewarding him with a blinding, albeit a little tremulous, smile. Her eyes crinkled adorably at the corners as she did, and that was how Jamie knew she’d be okay. 

“I’m glad ye’re here too,” he found himself saying despite himself, “I’m glad I found ye on that hill. I— I’m aware that sounds strange, but I feel like our paths were meant to cross. I ken this is a terrible situation for ye, Sorcha,” he didn’t think he had the self-control to stop himself from reaching for her hand, so he shoved them both under his legs instead, “but I’m glad ye’re here wi’ me.” 

“I’m glad to know you, too, Jamie,” she breathed, hands folded in her lap. 

In that moment, she leaned in closer to him. Their faces were mere centimeters apart, lips so close that their breath mingled together. The air was thick and heavy with tension; his heartbeat pounded in his ears, a second delayed from the organ itself thundering inside his chest. Her eyes were locked with his, and for an instant, he thought for sure she wanted to kiss him. He drew even closer, ready to lean in and bridge the distance between them, anticipating the feeling of her soft mouth against his...

-But the spell was broken as suddenly as a bubble popping when Adso chose that exact moment to jump off Claire’s lap, making them both jerk backward away from each other. 

With the magic of the moment gone, Jamie felt foolish and averted his eyes from her, his cheeks flushing. He must have been reading too far into the situation— his fantasies getting the better of him. She was a faerie. He was a human. And they sat in his basement in front of the space heater.  _ He needed to keep himself better in line before he did something to betray her trust. _ He shook himself out of his daze and stood abruptly. 

Claire stood as well, yawning slightly as she did. 

“Why dinna ye get some rest, Sassenach?” he suggested. 

She nodded. As he turned to head upstairs with her, she slipped her hand in his, and he smiled.  _ At least he hadn’t scared her off.  _

Walking together as they always did, Jamie led her upstairs. He grabbed her a change of clothes, another one of his tee shirts and some sweats, and left them on the bed with her in the guest bedroom. 

They both stood awkwardly in front of each other for a moment. He thought about telling her goodnight, but suddenly found he didn’t want to leave her just that second. Instead, he told her “I’ll let ye change,” and walked out, closing the door behind him.

A minute later, the door opened and Claire peeped out. Finding him still there, she smiled, and opened the door wider. 

“Come now, I’ll tuck ye in, lass,” he said. He felt a little absurd saying it ( _perhaps this_ _was crossing boundaries as well?_ ) but Claire seemed glad. He held the blankets up for her, and she slid in underneath them. 

“Goodnight, Claire,” he said softly as he settled the covers under her chin. 

“Goodnight, Jamie,” she breathed, giving him a sleepy smile. 

Then, before he could do something foolish like kiss her forehead, he turned and left the room. 

If he was being honest with himself, what he did next could best be described as “fleeing.” He all but ran downstairs, and then shoveled some food in his mouth, careless about what it was. If he thought of her at that moment, he’d never stop— let alone sleep— so he shoved all thoughts of the faerie from his mind. Instead, he made up a rough shopping list while he ate, and once he was finished, mindlessly did the dishes. 

He was dead tired, even though it wasn’t that late. His footsteps echoed off the walls as he trudged upstairs. He breezed through his nighttime routine, and soon he was sliding into bed. 

His head had scarcely hit the pillow when the door opened. A curly head peeked through, followed immediately by the rest of Claire. Just as boldly as the previous night, she walked in and began to crawl into his bed. 

But at the sight of her, Jamie had bolted upright. Before she could lay down next to him, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She sat down beside him on the bed, turning big doe eyes on him, which he could make out clearly by the bulbs from the hall. The low lighting made them appear an even deeper shade of whiskey, and his breath hitched. 

“What?” she asked. 

“It isna right, lass...” he explained gently, but a little huskily. This was using every ounce of self-discipline he possessed… “Lads and lasses dinna sleep together in the same bed if they arena  _ together— _ that means bonded for life—” he hastily elucidated his fumbling statement, “that’s why I gave ye yer own room.” 

“But aren’t we bonded for life now?” 

Her breathy question knocked all the air from his lungs. 

And the way she was looking at him, so earnest...

He couldn’t breathe, let alone answer. He desperately wanted to cry at her sincere tone. Because there was nothing more in the entire world that he wanted to say than “of course we are.”  _ But she didn’t understand what that meant.  _

So Jamie was unable to say anything at all. 

The silence stretched on for a long second as he struggled inside himself. Claire was the one who finally broke it. 

“Please, Jamie. I don’t want to be alone.” 

Her pleading tone broke his resolve. Obliterated into tiny pieces. There was no way that he could ever even dream of saying no to her after that. 

“Come here, mo nighean donn,” he breathed. 

He opened his arms to her, and she instantly came to him, leaning in as he folded her against himself. Gently, he laid them both down together on the bed. He thought perhaps he would gather her spoon-fashion against him, but once they were horizontal, he found that she didn’t want to face away from him. She settled against his side, her head rested on his chest and arms snaking their way around his middle. So, he simply adjusted his own arms around her until he was comfortable and relaxed into the bed. 

Jamie lay awake long after Claire’s breathing had evened out to the rhythm of sleep. Eyes wide open in the darkness, he held her tightly as his mind raced. 

It would be a sleepless night for him. 

Because he could no longer deny what it was he felt for her. 

Love. 

_ Self-sacrificing, all-encompassing, completely consuming love.  _

_***_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	7. Under His Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire confronts various emotions; tensions rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold onto your hats, we’re dipping into Claire's POV!

Claire woke slowly, her brain struggling against the mire of unconsciousness, swimming lazily to the surface. As she cracked her eyes open and took in the darkness, confusion and anxiety gripped her like vines coiling around her ankles. 

_ Where was she?  _

The material under her cheek was strange, and she certainly wasn’t on the ground with the familiar feeling of brush and grass against her cheek. Whatever she was lying on was soft and had a lot of give. 

She nearly started to panic, but then she became aware of the feeling of arms wrapped around her and her body securely anchored to that of the warm one behind her. 

While her brain, still clouded with sleep, struggled to identify who the arms belonged to, it was her heart that fondly sighed, “ _ Jamie _ .” 

And then she felt it. 

_ Safety _ — warring against the uncertainty. 

Awareness came back to her with that, and she remembered all the events of the previous few days. Here she was, in this strange human’s house, in his arms even, forever cut off from her home. 

The grief washed over her anew. Her whole world had been tilted upside down in mere minutes, the repercussions of touching the stones still revealing themselves. But she could feel in her bones that she was lost, never to return. 

The thought terrified her. 

Tears pricked at her eyes and her heart leapt suddenly to her throat. She tried to swallow the lump, to force it back down, but she felt the pressure inside her building— fit to burst into another meltdown over all she’d lost. 

So she turned to the one thing she could— both figuratively and literally. 

She rolled over so she was facing Jamie. In sleep, his arms instinctively shifted with her so he was still holding on to her, clutching her body to himself. As he settled back in, his breathing a reassuring rhythm, he pulled her even closer with a soft hum. 

He looked so peaceful that she hesitated to wake him. But tears were dripping from her eyes now, and she felt so alone that she wanted him— awake with all his gentleness and quick reassurances— desperately. In a tremulous, barely there voice, she whispered, “Jamie?” 

It took only a second for his eyes to open and fix on her. They were beautiful eyes, she thought— blue like the sky on a sunny day. Those eyes held such kindness, such soft compassion. They had been one of the first things that made Claire know he was a good man. 

As soon as Jamie saw her face, which must have been wet with tears by now, he let out a pained sound. His big hands let go of her and untwined from her body so that he could lift them to cup her cheeks, the thumbs swiping at the falling tears. 

“What’s wrong, mo nighean donn?” he asked, his face soft with concern. 

The tenderness there made Claire’s breath hitch and the silent tears fall even faster. 

“I— I’m sorry—” she suddenly felt very foolish to have woken him, without even a good reason, “I just… woke up scared. And then I remembered...” 

There was a mere second for her to berate herself over her behavior before understanding crossed Jamie’s face and assuaged Claire’s embarrassment. Jamie had an amazing knack for making her feel that he understood and hurt with her without making her feel pitied. This kind of empathy was something Claire had never really experienced before she met him. 

It was with that empathy that he met the tide of her grief.

“Come here,” he said softly. 

He pulled her closer and his hand settled on the back of her head to press her face into the crook of his neck. She went willingly. The skin of his neck felt warm and silky under her teary eyes, and she let more drops fall onto the offered canvas of his body. She wasn’t actively crying like she had the previous day when the realization hit her, just quietly addressing her loss, releasing pent up tears that seemed to have been inside her all night. The nighttime was when fears always preyed, darkness and loneliness reminding one of their greatest insecurities, but she was lucky not to be alone. 

Both of his arms encircled her, but one of his hands was free enough to rub comforting circles into her back. His hands were so big, she marveled at the feeling and strength of them— so reassuring. Grounding her. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. Her lips barely brushed the skin of his collarbone as she spoke. 

“Dinna be sorry,” his deep voice was a vibration in his chest that she could feel from how she laid on him, pressed so tightly against his body, “I’m here.” 

That made her feel a thousand times better. As much turmoil as she’d been through in the past couple of days, he was her light— her anchor. She somehow trusted him with everything inside her. 

She’d known him to be trustworthy from the first time she touched him. Before that, when he’d knelt a short ways away from her on the moor, she’d noticed the kindness in his eyes, the truth in his words, and the deference in his posture that indicated he meant her no harm. That all made her less wary. But the first time she’d truly  _ known  _ was when she’d touched his face and felt that warm rush of security and gentleness, more powerful than she’d ever felt before. There was a connection between them that was completely novel to Claire but nonetheless reassuring. From that second on, Jamie had been hers, and she his. 

As she wept against him now, she couldn’t help but believe his earnest words. Everything would be okay. As long as he was there to hold her, to protect her, she could survive. 

_ Comfort _ . 

He continued to embrace her long after her tears had dried. With infinite patience, he simply offered his body to her, wrapping himself around her as if he could block out her pain. She was loathe to move away from him and the safety he provided, but the sun was up— light was filtering through the window indicating late morning— and she needed to face the day. 

She lifted her face from his shoulder and locked eyes with him. 

“Thank you,” she said softly. She hoped he knew all the unspoken things those words held—  _ thank you for saving me, for caring for me, for holding together my broken pieces, for letting me drop into your life like this and never complaining once… _

He must have known, because he gave her a smile that made her knees feel like jelly and said simply but with a weight of regard, “ye’re welcome.” 

They got up slowly. Claire parted from Jamie reluctantly, but sat up nonetheless, allowing him to stretch and then set off. Watching him, all the high emotions from the night before seemed to dissipate, and she was left feeling more like herself again. Jamie seemed to have a routine that he followed every morning, and Claire followed him, interested to watch what exactly he was doing. 

First, he padded sleepily to the little place with the “shower”, scratching the back of his head where some of his beautiful red curls were sticking up adorably. He’d left the “door” open, but Claire wasn’t entirely sure he knew she was there as he made the water appear (she still had no idea how it did that!) and put a small stick thing under it. Then, he raised the stick and started to rub it inside his mouth. She recoiled a little in disgust, wondering if this was something like “eating”, but upon closer inspection, it seemed to be something different entirely. It lasted only another few seconds before he leaned down and washed his face under the little waterfall. When he straightened up again, his eyes met hers in the strange reflective surface, and he turned suddenly toward her. 

“Claire!” he exclaimed, “I didna realize ye were there. Ehm… I hafta take a shower. Would you mind givin’ me a bit of time?” His eyebrows were raised apologetically as he thrust a thumb in the direction of the “shower.” 

With a nod and a smile she hoped looked reassuring, she said, “Of course!” 

She didn’t want to impose on him, and he’d been spending nearly every second with her. He was obviously reluctant to leave her on her own, but she wanted him to know that she’d be fine. 

He gave her a nod, still looking a bit guilty, and then shut the bathroom door, separating them. A second later, she heard the sound of rain and figured he was beginning the shower. 

Left to her own devices, she headed down. She was still a little hesitant about descending the odd hill that led down to the other level— the blocky shapes on it seemed easy to slip on— but she held tightly to the little trees that lined either side. 

When she’d finally made it down, the grey “cheetie” Adso was sitting in the middle of the place Jamie called “the living room” and looking up at her with big green eyes. 

“Hello my friend!” she exclaimed happily as she sat down to run her fingers through his soft fur. He rumbled beneath her hands, making her giggle a little, and she spent a few moments completely absorbed with Jamie’s companion. He must have been loyal to Jamie— she thought— to choose to spend all his time inside with him instead of out on the moors. 

As she stroked his soft fur, thoughts of her future crept into her mind, unbidden. Thinking more than a few days ahead was complete madness, so she limited herself to worrying about this day and its troubles. Jamie would honor his promise and take care of her, but if she was going to be here for any amount of time, she needed to really start learning about this world. She didn’t particularly care for the feeling of helplessness that was her ever-present companion; she wanted to become competent and hopefully one day reciprocate Jamie’s care. With a hardening resolve, she decided that today she would be brave. She would learn everything Jamie would teach her and take as many steps as she could toward her new life. 

It wasn’t long before Adso grew bored of her. Just as she had made up her mind, he abruptly hopped to his feet and pranced off, tail flicking in goodbye. 

Claire wasn’t sure what to do next. She would have liked to go back and feel the warm wind ( _ what was it Jamie had called it— “space heater”? _ ), but she wasn’t sure how much heat it could possibly have trapped inside of it and thought probably best to save it. Glancing around the room in search of inspiration, her gaze fell on the window. 

It was a beautiful day— the sun illuminating the terrain with its bright colors, not even a hint of the usual Scottish greys of clouds and drizzle. It was the perfect opportunity to tend to Jamie’s plants (which were sorely in need of a good touch). And if doing something she was good at helped her to feel more competent and useful in this world, all the better for it. 

She headed outside right away. Kneeling down in the dirt, the slight tension inside her eased. She was in her element. Her hands instinctively reached for the plants, classifying to herself, cataloguing their needs in her brain, and simply touching in order to better sense them. 

It wasn’t long before she grew lost in her endeavors. There were some invasive plants— dreadful, malicious things that didn’t even belong in Scotland, she knew— that she began to pull up and toss aside. Their roots were strong, but she could feel them choking the life from the others and pulled hard. Her hands grew dirty in her efforts but she didn’t mind; it was only evidence of her making a difference. The sun rose even higher in the sky as she worked, but she was paying no attention to anything around her. She finally felt a sense of value again as she freed the plants from the choking hold of the invaders.

Her tranquility was suddenly shattered when a loud  _ bang  _ came from the direction of the house. Claire jolted upright, dropping her weeds, and her head whipped toward it. 

Jamie stood just outside, his fiery hair aglow in the sun but beautiful blue eyes blown wide in panic and fixed on her. Seeing his tension, she thought for an instant that something was terribly wrong.  _ Was something after him? Come to harm them?  _ She had no idea the dangers of the human world. 

But then he was suddenly racing toward her, eyes never leaving her the whole time. He fell on his knees beside her and scooped her into an embrace. Bewildered, she didn’t resist as he clutched her to his chest, hugging so tightly it was nearly hard to breathe. 

“Christ, lass!” he burst out, “I looked everywhere for ye and couldna find ye. I thought maybe ye’d run off or somethin’d happened and—” He was breathless as he spoke, and Claire could feel his chest heaving against her as he tried to calm himself down. 

“I was only out here,” was all she could think to say. 

Jamie pulled back a little so he could look down at her, but made no move to let her go. She didn’t particularly mind— she liked being in his arms and wished he’d hold her all the time, but she was disturbed by how upset he seemed. He studied her for a long moment, eyes sweeping over her as if ensuring she was alright. 

“Ifrinn,” he muttered suddenly, face softening from an expression of frantic worry into a more gentle concern, “ye’re shakin’ like a leaf. How long have ye been out here, a nighean? And wi’ out a coat? Ye’re cold as ice.” 

Claire wasn’t sure what a “coat” was, but at his words, she realized that she  _ was  _ freezing. He was right— her whole body trembled in that odd way it had ever since she’d touched the stones. She furrowed her brow in discomfort.  _ The cold was the worst.  _

Jamie was muttering something under his breath and rubbing his hands up and down her arms. On one pass, they traveled further down and caught her hands in his, heedless of the dirt caked on them. He squeezed, and Claire was taken aback at just how warm they were. 

“Come now. Inside,” he told her, his tone indicating there was no room for argument. 

He all but hauled her up and tugged her toward the house. Her hand was clasped in his, so the tension that lingered in his body was apparent to her. 

The moment they were inside, Jamie whirled to face her. He snagged the soft fabric (what was it called again— blankit?) from the couch and, facing her all the while, raised his arms over her head to wrap it around her shoulders. The forceful movement of him swaddling her brought her closer to him, and he pulled the edges tight together so she was wrapped completely. Her trembling hadn’t eased in the slightest, if anything it was getting worse now that she was back in the warmth of the house, so she was grateful for the comfort. 

But that sense of gratitude didn’t stay long. 

“Christ, lass,” Jamie was saying, voice giving way to frustration, “ye canna go wanderin’ like that.” 

His hands waved wildly in a grand gesture of “wandering”, as if she had walked all the way back to her forest instead of just out back. 

“I was only just outside,” Claire protested. 

She took a step backward so Jamie wasn’t so close to her. She didn’t like the emotions radiating from him. He seemed  _ red  _ to her, like the heat of the sun— energy roaring within. 

“Aye, but ye didna say a word about it tae me first. Anythin’ could have happened to ye,” Jamie shot back. 

Claire felt her nerves fraying at the tone of his voice. 

“I’m capable of taking care of myself,” she spat, bristling. 

“Are ye, then?” His tone teetering just into the realm of mocking, “Because—”

That put her over the edge. She dropped the blanket from her shoulders and stalked back toward him, fire in her belly. 

“You treat me like I’m just some foolish child! Like I’m this fragile thing about to break if I’m alone for one moment. I may not know everything about your world, but I’ve taken care of myself my whole life.  _ I don’t need you!”  _ The last words burst from her mouth in her fury, lashing out with a shot aimed right at his heart. 

But the moment she said them, she wished she could grab them out of the air and shove them back in. Jamie seemed to instantly crumple. It was as if she’d struck him with her fists rather than her words, the “I don’t need you” a killing blow. He deflated, all the tight muscles in his shoulders uncoiling as he slumped back against the couch heavily and slid a little further down to sit on it. His big blue eyes looked up at her with the most heartbroken expression she’d seem in her life. And it tore her to pieces. 

Even worse… to know it was  _ her _ that had caused him such anguish. 

“I ken ye can take care of yerself…” he said, very softly, all the fight completely gone out of him, “I’m sorry that I made ye feel like I didna think that. It’s jes’ that I was sae worrit when I couldna find ye, I thought I’d maybe lost ye forever and… I overreacted.”

Nearly the exact same way Jamie had gone limp after her words tore through him, his soft confession knocked all the air from her lungs. Any remaining fight in her was gone, leaving only the hollow feeling of regret. 

She hesitantly knelt down in front of him. After his declaration, he’d braced his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. As she settled herself between his legs, she gently took both of his wrists and forced him to raise his head to look at her. 

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, that being the most important thing that she was dying to ensure he knew, “I overreacted too. The truth is... it scares me how much I  _ do  _ need you—” 

His beautiful eyes peered searchingly into hers, as if desperate for a confirmation on her face that she was telling him the truth. She couldn’t help but reach a hand up and lightly cup his cheek, caressing his face softly. Her touch was fueled by a yearning to feel close to him again as much as to comfort him. 

From the second she’d met him, she’d felt a connection to him down to her very soul. They were bonded, the two of them. And now she’d found herself falling for him. And in the face of that— and the desperate need for him that scared her to her core— she’d lashed out. 

“I dinna ken why…” Jamie started, very slowly, “but ever since I found ye on that hill, I’ve felt this… compulsion… to keep ye safe. To care for ye and protect ye from anythin’ that might steal that bonny smile from yer face. I’m sorry that I went too far. I wish I could jes’ tuck ye into my coat like a wee cheetie and carry ye with me against my chest, but I ken that’s no’ what ye need. I’ve been selfish, Sassenach. If I coddled ye, it was only because  _ I _ needed it, not you. But I wasna lookin’ to see how it hurt you. Ye’re incredibly brave, mo nighean donn, and strong. Dinna ever believe otherwise, or think that  _ I _ believe otherwise…” 

Tears shimmered in his eyes, and she felt a matching sheen in her own. The pressure was building inside her, a lump in her throat matching the coil in her belly. 

It surprised her when the next words came tumbling out of her mouth, a hasty confession she hadn’t meant to see the light of day—

“I don’t feel very brave.” 

It was the truth, of course. She’d been a mess this whole time. Unable to bear the weight of separation from her people, clinging to Jamie as her lifeline. Without him, she would have surely shattered…

She was interrupted from these thoughts by Jamie sliding down onto the floor in front of her so they knelt face-to-face. His big hands came up to cradle her jaw, forcing her to meet his eyes. Then, he began to speak, somehow achieving the perfect balance of firm conviction and gentleness. 

“But ye  _ are _ , a nighean. Ye are here, and ye’re still goin’.  _ That’s brave.”  _

His words hung in the air— short, simple, but as poignant as a stone throw. 

She nodded, too choked up to give any further reply. 

It was then that he hugged her. Smashed her to his chest, his arms wrapping around her middle, solid as trees, and holding her to him as if he was scared she would disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. Her own arms had been trapped between them during his sudden movement, but she managed to wriggle them free to bring them around his shoulders and embrace him in return. 

She felt anchored suddenly— as if she’d been floating in the sky, subject to the fancies of the wind, before this strange man had suddenly reached up and pulled her back down to solid ground. 

All thoughts of the home that had been lost suddenly disappeared from her mind as Jamie held her. Because it was thoughts of her  _ new  _ home— her home with him— and the hope that accompanied them that filled her mind instead. 

“You know… I think I’d actually quite like to be a cheetie wrapped in your coat,” she tremulously joked, her voice muffled from how her mouth was pressed into the fabric at his shoulder. 

Jamie let out a laugh that vibrated through him and into her— a clear, unrestrained sound like the way the loch ripples when a stone plunks into it. She wished to herself that she could hear it forever— to spare him from any pain like the kind she’d just inflicted upon him. 

In that moment, she knew she loved him. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends!! Many of you all were asking questions about Claire's feelings in the comments last chapter and I— knowing this chapter was next— was so impressed that you were in tune with the story to sense that, so kudos! Last chapter ended with Jamie’s realization of love, and now we got Claire’s. And we had our first fight and makeup— of course canon river fight elements had to make their way into the story ;) Next chapter coming soon!
> 
> Thank you so very much for your continued interest and for all your support, it means the world <3<3 *Hugs*


	8. The Outside World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie reflects during the aftermath of the fight, and then they suit up and begin Claire's first trip into Inverness.

Jamie Fraser hadn’t known that four simple words— “I don’t need you”— could possibly have torn into him with such vicious aim and rocked his whole world on such a scale. But that was before Claire. The consequence of loving her was that she held his heart in her wee palms, with all the power to shatter it with a single blow. 

He’d known it was a mistake to berate her over going outside. With a clear head, he never would have said those things to her. But after tearing apart the house, anxiety building and building along with the fear that he’d never see her again— and thinking that he’d be back to facing that empty void in his heart alone— his brain had gone straight out the window. 

So he couldn’t blame her for lashing out. He’d deserved it. He had wanted so desperately to protect her that he hadn’t looked at what he was doing to her. 

While sitting there on the couch, having collapsed into a trembling mess, he’d thought he’d mucked it all up. Until she’d taken his hands, his face— touching him with such affection... 

And given him a second chance. 

As he held her in his arms, clasping her to him as if she might suddenly change her mind and push him away, he vowed to himself that he’d use it well. 

Every time he’d held her, even in the mundane moments like sitting beside the space heater, that golden cloud that surrounded her— the warmth of her presence— had encompassed him as well. As he held her now, though, he noticed it seemed weaker. He pulled back a little to study her, furrowing his brow as the now familiar shimmering aura was less visible. 

“What is it?” she asked. 

He shook his head, unsure. This was uncertain ground, and after going through what they just had, he didn’t want to tread on it. “Ach, it’s nothin’, dinna fash.” 

She seemed to accept it, laying her head down on his shoulder and letting out a sigh. His heart stuttered in its steady rhythm as he felt the gravity of her trust and the soul-stealing tenderness of her touch. 

He didn’t have the strength to even think about moving. He would simply wait until she was ready, letting her make the first move, and he would be grateful all the while for everything she was willing to give him. 

In the end, she’d wanted to be held for a long time. There wasn’t a clock around so Jamie couldn’t have said for sure how long, but the minutes passed in a comfortable but weighty silence— each of them enveloped in the other. When she finally stirred, it was to lift her head and give Jamie a brave smile. 

“You know, I told myself that today I would do everything I could to learn about the human world.” 

“Is that so?” he asked. Unable to resist the consuming urge to brush back the single curl that hung over her face, he lifted a hand and gently tucked it behind her ear before continuing, “did ye have anythin’ in mind?” 

She gave him a bit of a helpless look, accompanied by a self-conscious half smile, “I’d hoped maybe you would have some ideas about what we should do.” 

“Weel,” he gave her an assessing look, “seein’ as ye’re currently drownin’ in my clothes, I’m thinkin’ it wouldna be a bad idea tae go out and get ye some of yer own that fit properly. What do ye say, mo nighean donn, are ye ready for a trip to the human world?” 

***

It took Jamie a short while to get them ready to go. Since Claire didn’t have any shoes, Jamie had to track down something that could remotely protect her feet. Jamie was a big man, with feet to match, and Claire’s feet reflected her own dainty features— they were nearly half the size of his. He’d settled on a pair of old hiking boots, kneeling down in front of Claire and lacing them as tightly as he possibly could. But the moment she stood up and took a few exploratory steps, they flopped so terribly on her feet that she’d stumbled and nearly fallen against Jamie. He’d grabbed her by the arms, helped her upright, and then went back to the drawing board. 

He’d emerged again from his basement bearing sandals with adjustable straps. However, knowing her proclivity toward getting chilled, he’d first bundled her wee feet into two layers of socks before strapping her into the sandals. 

She was sitting at the kitchen table, patiently allowing him to prepare her shoes while he knelt on the ground in front of her and tried to make sure they were secure. 

As he straightened, he couldna help but laugh at the ridiculous nature of the situation— Claire sitting there, slightly swinging her sock-and-sandaled feet that he’d just dolled her up in. 

“I’m a right Prince Charming, it seems, but ye’re the strangest Cinderella I’ve ever seen,” he chuckled to himself. 

He was answered by a perplexed look. She was so lost that she didn’t even try to echo the words, just gave him big doe-eyes of confusion. 

That sent him laughing again. “Dinna fash, Sassenach,” he gave a dismissive wave of his hand, “jes’ a wee bit o’ human stuff. So… are ye ready tae face the outside world?” 

She gave a decisive nod, looking like she was steeling herself to face the guillotine, and stood up with surprising grace. 

Despite her elegant air and fierce determination, the situation only grew more ridiculous to Jamie as he took in the sight of her standing in all her splendor— his tee-shirt huge on her tiny frame, sweatpants pulled up nearly to her oxters and drawn tight (yet the hems still puddled on the ground), and with socks and sandals as the  pièce de résistance. 

_ It was the most endearing thing he’d ever seen.  _

“Ye look verra bonny, Sassenach,” he stifled yet another laugh, his heart clenching with the force of his affection for her, “but I do think it’s a good thin’ we’re goin’ tae get ye yer own clothes.” 

Her lips quirked as she glanced down at herself and then up at him. 

“I take it this isn’t the typical outfit for human females?” she said, good-naturedly laughing at herself. 

Jamie shook his head. 

“I can assure ye it’s not. But we’ll fix ye up soon enough. Here,” he offered her his arm, “take my arm so ye dinna trip over yer pants.” 

She did, her wee hand slipping into the crook of his elbow and holding on to his bicep. 

With that, Prince Charming led his princess out to the waiting car. 

*

Claire seemed somewhat taken aback when they approached the vehicle and shot him a wary glance. Her hand tightened on his arm, making him stop short. 

“What… is it?” she asked timidly. 

“My car? Do ye no remember ridin’ in it when I took ye home from the stones?” he asked. 

She shook her head. “I don’t remember much, it’s all pretty foggy. Other than you, of course,” she blessed him with another one of those mega-watt smiles. 

“Och, weel, ye were pretty ou’ of it, I cannae blame ye. This is a car. We get inside, and use it tae travel long distances quickly because it moves verra fast.” 

She nodded slightly, but still looked reluctant to go any nearer. Nevertheless, she drew herself up and set her shoulders with fierce determination. 

“I said I’d be brave today and I will be,” she announced firmly. 

“I’m proud of ye, a nighean,” he couldn’t help but say, “and I’ll be right by yer side the whole time. I promise, I willna let anythin’ happen to ye.” 

Much to his delight, that seemed to reassure her. She let go of his arm and walked decisively toward the car. He caught her up and slipped in front to open the door. With nothing more than a shaky inhale and a second of hesitation, she plunged in. 

He shut it behind her and quickly walked around to his side to slide in. Once he was settled, he looked over to her. 

“See, no’ sae bad, right?” 

She seemed to melt a little at that, relaxing back into the seat and nodding. 

“Yeah,” she breathed, “not so bad.” 

But in less than 30 seconds, she was eating her words. As soon as Jamie put the car in reverse and began backing out of the driveway, both of her hands shot out to scramble for purchase on the nearest available surface— one of which was the door, and the other Jamie’s arm. Surprisingly sharp wee nails dug crescents into his forearm, and he struggled to keep his hand in place. 

His first impulse was to stop. She was quite obviously panicking, chest heaving and eyes huge as she gripped him, but they needed to get this over with. Of course it’d be terrifying at first— she’d likely never moved faster than her own two feet could carry her— but he had full confidence that she’d grow used to it and settle soon enough. 

Once they were on the road, Jamie could spare a little more attention for her. She had mercifully let go of his arm, and both of her hands were now gripping the dashboard in front of her, knuckles white. He let go of the steering wheel with one hand in order to reach out for her. Twining their fingers together, he glanced over and gave her a reassuring squeeze. 

“Ye’re doin’ great, Sassenach,” he told her. 

She didn’t answer for a long moment. When he looked over at her again, she was white as a sheet and staring straight ahead. With a start, he realized that her hand seemed clammy in his. 

“Are ye alright, lass?” he asked in alarm. 

“I feel sick,” she forced out weakly. 

With the expertise of one familiar with motion-sickness, Jamie slammed on the brakes (thank God that the country roads were almost always completely abandoned), grabbed a grocery bag he’d left in the back seat, and shoved it underneath her. 

Her head bowed over it, a curtain of curls falling over her face, and her chest heaved with shaky breaths. But she made no indication that she was about to be sick. 

_ Of course she wouldn’t throw up _ , he realized all of a sudden,  _ she didn’t eat.  _

Still, it was a good thing he had stopped. Although she wasn’t in danger of losing her lunch, she looked as if she  _ was  _ on the verge of passing out. The puir lass was paler than a ghost. 

Jamie quickly dropped the bag and instead moved his hand to rub soothing circles on her back. 

“Ye’re alright, a leannan,” he told her gently, “puir wee thing. I ken the motion is somethin’ awful.” 

She let out a tiny whimper that broke his heart and made him ready to abandon this foul machine on the side of the road, walk her home, and never return for it. 

Instead of taking hasty action against his car, though, he grabbed his water bottle from the cupholder, poured a bit of water into a cupped hand, and dribbled it over the back of her neck. Then, he gently pressed his wet hand at various spots around her neck and up onto her cheeks. 

“Ye’re doin’ great, mo nighean donn, deep breaths,” he encouraged, his other hand continuing the circles it was making on her back. 

“I’m alright,” she mustered. She managed to raise her head and give him a tremulous smile. To his relief, color had begun to return to her cheeks, and she no longer seemed to be in danger of passing out. 

“Good,” he murmured, “why dinna we take a break and walk about outside for a minute, aye?” 

She shook her head doggedly. “I’m fine, let’s keep going.” 

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Christ, ye are brave,” he chuckled, “ye sure?”

She gave him a nod of assent, and then sat back in her seat, looking like an astronaut waiting for lift off. 

He stifled the urge to ask her again if she was certain. While they could turn around and leave shopping for another day, she’d have to face the reality of cars eventually if she was going to stay in the human world. So, they would continue on their way— even if her suffering was driving a hole in his heart and he wasn’t sure he could live with the knowledge that it was him doing it to her. 

Jamie accelerated very slowly and tried to minimize as many bumps and jostles as he could on a road of this condition. Claire seemed much better this time around, hands clasped together in her lap instead of clutching the dashboard (although her knuckles were still white, he noticed). 

After a few minutes, she even managed to relax a bit. Since she seemed to be doing alright, Jamie took the rest of the drive to Inverness to explain to her what to expect: what stores were, what they would be looking for, etc. Claire didn’t take her eyes off of the road in front of them but gave him a few nods and hums of understanding. 

The little thrift shop he had in mind was in a pedestrian-only part of Inverness, so he parked at the nearest parking lot and steeled himself for the trial of taking Claire through the town. He had every confidence in her ability to handle it, but that still didn’t reduce his desire for her to be a wee cheetie he could tuck inside his coat. 

The second the car was parked, a sigh of relief came from the passenger side. 

“Ye made it, Sassenach,” he congratulated her, turning to her and reaching out to give her hand a squeeze. 

He had meant it to be a quick motion, but she caught his hand and held it on her lap. He could feel a slight tremor in it, and his heart went out to her. 

“I ken it’s scary,” he said softly, “but it’ll be alright. We humans arena so bad, ye’ll see.” 

“If they’re anything like you, I think I’ll love them,” she breathed. 

The words twisted his wame into a mushy mess.  _ Oh lord, did she even know what using the word “love” in relation to him did to his puir heart?  _

But he shoved his wayward reaction aside and focused his attention on the brave wee lass getting ready to face her fears. 

“I’ll be right wi’ ye,” he assured, “the whole time.” 

She gave a wordless nod, but still didn’t release his hand from her shaky one. 

“Are ye ready, mo nighean donn?” 

The term of endearment perched on his tongue and in his mind had actually been “mo ghraidh,” but he managed to choke that one off before it left his lips. 

“As I’ll ever be,” she said tremulously, but put on a brave face. 

With one last squeeze, he reluctantly withdrew his hand from hers so he could get out. He quickly made his way around the car to the passenger’s side so he could open her door and offer his hand to her again. 

She took it, squinting out into the daylight, and with that, Sorcha emerged out of the car and into her first experience with the real human world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original planning of the story, this chapter and the one after this were going to be all one. But as I was writing this one several weeks ago, I had to include the motion-sickness bit, because like... of course she'd feel like she was going to die! I've grown up riding in cars and I still feel like throwing up any time I'm not driving (shout out to my fellow motion-sickness peeps. Hmu if you have remedies, I've tried everything ;)) Anywaay, thank you for your patience, next chapter is quite interesting in my humble (biased) opinion! I should have it up on Saturday!
> 
> And as always, thank you SO much for all your support! Truly every reaction I get makes me so excited!


	9. Terrors and Delights of the Great Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire gets her first taste of the human world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! This is a long chapter, so buckle up. Hope you enjoy! <3

Claire clung tightly to his hand as he led her through the streets of Inverness. Her eyes were huge as watermelons, pupils blown wide as she tried to take in all the sensations assaulting her. 

Jamie thought the buildings were the first shock she was trying to come to terms with. Her neck craned up to look at them, glancing nervously at their looming presence all around them. She’d seen Jamie’s house, of course, but that was nothing like the crowded buildings of the city. Her eyes glanced upward toward the sky— likely grounding herself with the one familiar aspect. Much to Jamie’s delight, she then glanced toward him, and peace flashed across her face. 

_ If Jamie’s nearness offered comfort akin to the sky, he could die happy.  _

The buildings were quickly overshadowed by the disconcerting nature of the people around them. She shied toward him— her body pressing to his side like it was her refuge— every time another person passed, even if they were meters away. Some of the passersby gave her strange looks, apparently seeing her odd behavior (not to mention her attire) which completely unnerved Claire. In addition to never having interacted with another human save Jamie, she was used to being invisible to them. The puir wee thing trembled at his side, but bravely continued on. 

“Dinna fash, they’ll no’ harm ye,” Jamie reassured quietly. 

She gave him a wordless nod, lips pressed tightly together, and continued to meld herself to his side. She no longer stared like a deer in headlights at every person close by, but he could tell she still snuck wary glances at those who wandered near. 

As they continued to walk on the cobblestone street, passing by shop windows with elaborate decorations and advertisements, Claire’s anxiety gradually subsided. She began to sneak peeks at the shops as they passed, and Jamie smiled to himself. As the trepidation was replaced more by curiosity, she melted inch by inch. Soon, her death grip on his hand became one of simple connection. She would pause every once in a while to study a shop window, tugging on Jamie’s hand to get him to stop. 

He catered to her every whim, even when she wanted to stop and run her hands reverently over the bricks of one building for several minutes while he struggled to explain the basics of construction. 

During their (very slow) progress down the street, a broad smile gradually formed on those bonny pink lips. Her eyes now wide with intrigue, Claire was coming alive. 

It lightened his heart immensely to see her beginning to enjoy herself and overcome her apprehension. At first, he’d worried to himself that it would all be too much for her— that maybe he’d scare her away from the human world with this single traumatic experience. But that wasn’t the case, and his own anxiety had eased along with hers. He delighted in watching her explore the world with endearing enthusiasm. 

He was pulled to a stop once again as Claire peered into the window of an ice cream shop. 

“What is this place?” she asked in wonder. 

“Och, ‘tis a place where they make food— a special kind called ice cream that humans particularly enjoy.” Jamie was starting to get better at his explanations, trying to boil them down to the simplest things she would understand. (That was more difficult than he would have imagined, mind, because a usual explanation for ice cream would have included descriptors such as “dessert” and “sweet”, but Claire of course lacked the background knowledge for that to make any sense.)

She nodded at his words but didn’t tear her eyes away from the displays of colorful ice cream inside. A smile spread across his face as he watched her take it in, his heart swelling with affection yet again for his strange lass. 

“God, I wish ye ate. If this were a movie ye ken there’d be a grand scene where I take ye inside and ye’d experience ice cream for the first time, yer world lightin’ up the instant ye taste it,” he said to himself. 

She did tear her eyes away then, to give him a furrowed-brow look of bewilderment. 

“What?” 

Jamie laughed and shook his head. “Dinna mind me, Sassenach,” he dismissed with a chuckle. 

They continued on at their snail’s pace, but before long, Jamie was nearly hauled off his feet by Claire abruptly stopping in front of a trash can. 

“What’s this?” she inquired as she reached a hand toward the nearly overflowing bin. 

“Dinna touch it,” he pulled her back rather forcefully by their joined hands, and he felt bad when she instantly latched onto his side again, thinking it harmful because of his forceful response. Her fingers were clutching his shirt in a white-knuckled grip. 

“It’s no’ dangerous,” he quickly amended, “that’s jes’ what humans do with waste. Things that arena good any more or they dinna need.” 

“Why don’t they need all these things?” Claire asked in confusion, squinting her eyes at the contents. 

Jamie wasn’t sure exactly how to answer that. “Weel, did ye no’ have things that once served a purpose but then no longer did?” 

She peered up at him and gave a shake of her head. 

“The Earth provides what we need, and when we’re done, it returns to the earth to be used again.” 

“Aye, that’s a good way to live,” Jamie murmured. 

Claire still seemed disturbed by the trash as they began walking again, but she soon forgot all about it as more things caught her attention. A passing bicycle brought up a whole new conversation, and Jamie had to chuckle to himself imagining his graceful faerie bumbling around the pedals and clinging to the handlebars.  _ Maybe someday… _

Finally— after taking more than three times the amount of time it would have taken the average person to go this short distance— they arrived at the wee thrift shop, tucked on the corner. 

Jamie knew the owner, a Mrs. Fitz, who was a very distant relative of his. Although to be fair, everyone in the highlands was practically related. As Jamie pushed open the door and led Claire inside, the little bell rang in welcome and Mrs. Fitz instantly popped up from behind a rack of clothes, her face shining with enthusiasm. 

“Och,  _ Jamie _ , lad!” she exclaimed, “it’s sae good t’ see ye!” 

She clasped both her hands over her chest in delight and gave him a wide smile. The shopkeeper quickly bustled over to him, arms outstretched for a hug. But as he tried to withdraw his hand from Claire’s, she stubbornly refused to release him, so he was left giving Mrs. Fitz an odd, one-armed side hug. 

Drawing back, she seemed to notice Claire for the first time, and blinked at her for a second. 

“Ah, and who is this ye have wi’ ye?” she asked Jamie. She looked pointedly down at their clasped hands, up at Jamie, and then back at Claire. 

He looked on in amusement as Mrs. Fitz truly took in Claire’s appearance— the wee lass standing there in his huge jacket, sagging sweatpants, and feet clad in socks and sandals. Mrs. Fitz’ eyes seemed to bulge as she looked at her, and Jamie realized he’d better give an excuse before the shopkeeper combusted. 

“This is my… friend, Claire. She’s visitin’ but lost her luggage, and we need tae get her all new stuff. Could ye maybe help us out?” 

Mrs. Fitz’ agog morphed quickly into a motherly look of sympathy. 

“Ye puir thing, of course we’ll get ye everythin’ ye need.” 

She made toward Claire as if she was about to hug her and then lead her toward the racks, but Claire hastily took a step away, bumping into Jamie in the process. 

“No’ a hugger I see, no problem,” Mrs. Fitz said accommodatingly with hands raised. 

Instead, she simply turned on her heel and headed over toward the first rack in sight— jeans. 

Claire was quiet, looking around the room abstractedly and not paying the slightest bit of attention as Mrs. Fitz prattled on about the pants, speculating about Claire’s size and which might best suit her. Jamie was trying to answer the questions on her behalf, but was distracted by the look on Claire’s face, which had suddenly lit up as something caught her eye. 

For the first time the entire trip, she let go of Jamie’s hand. (The moment felt absurdly monumental, and he found himself feeling empty without the sensation of her hand clasped in his). He resisted the impulse to gape at her with an open mouth as she wandered across the room with rather astounding boldness. Then, he spotted exactly what it was that had caught her attention. 

A gauzy white dress hung on a display hanger, it’s hem fluttering just in the slightest from the air vent above it. 

“I like this,” she announced, halting Mrs. Fitz from her perusal of the jeans. 

“Och, a dress lass, are ye? Well I think that’d suit ye jes’ fine. Why dinna ye try it on while I grab some others I think might work for ye?” 

Jamie quickly thanked her and took Claire’s elbow, steering her in the direction of the dressing room. 

“Ye can change into it back here to be sure it fits,” Jamie murmured into her ear. 

In one fluid motion, he opened the curtain of the dressing room, shoved the dress into her arms, herded her inside, and then closed the curtain again. Every second Mrs. Fitz wasn’t studying her made it more likely they’d get through this without arousing too many questions. 

It took Claire a rather long time to change, he thought. Although she  _ did  _ have a lot of layers to peel off. While she was still inside the changing room, Mrs. Fitz returned and deposited an armful of dresses into Jamie’ lap, all in the same size as the one Claire had picked. 

The shopkeeper was just about to open her mouth to ask him something when the bell over the door rang and she scurried away to greet the other customer. Jamie breathed a sigh of relief. 

It was then that the curtain flew open and Claire emerged, clad in her white dress. 

Jamie nearly had a stroke on the spot. 

_ She was divine.  _ The white dress fit her perfectly, clinging to her curves down to her waist where it flared out into the draping of the skirt, the hem falling to just below her knees. A hint of cleavage teased at the neckline, skin creamy-white and looking oh-so soft. She swayed gently back and forth with a faint smile, and the gauzy material of the skirt flowed around her with the movement. It was as if the dress had been made for her. 

Under the bright lighting of the shop, Claire’s glow seemed muted to him, although certainly still there. It seemed to accentuate the perfection of the white dress and her dark hair that flowed down her shoulders in sharp contrast— giving her the air of an angel. 

Jamie was astounded. 

Unaware of how speechless she’d left him, Claire asked shyly, “do you like it?” 

He had to swallow three times before his dry throat was capable of answering her. 

“Ye look beautiful,” he forced out. 

She beamed, twirling around in excitement— which made the skirt billow up around her— and then suddenly she was launching herself at Jamie. Claire hugged him tightly, bare feet on tip-toes as she tried to reach up to be closer to him. 

“Thank you, Jamie,” she breathed warmly. 

He was ecstatic that something as simple as a new dress could make her this happy. 

Mrs. Fitz chose that exact moment to return, her footsteps pattering over and barging in on what Jamie considered a rather private moment. 

“Oh, my dear!” she exclaimed as Claire and Jamie parted, “ye look breathtakin.” 

Jamie couldn’t have agreed with her more. 

Claire flushed, eyelashes lowering demurely, and quietly thanked her. She had barely gotten the words out when Mrs. Fitz began shoving a couple pairs of shoes into her hands. Then, just like the whirlwind she was, Mrs. Fitz breezed off again. 

Jamie handed Claire another dress to try on and took all but one pair of the shoes from her. Then, he sat back down to wait. 

When Claire next emerged, she was wearing a black sundress with a floral design. Although the hem was above the knee, it wasn’t quite as form-fitting or astonishingly perfect for her (although he thought everything suited her, of course), so Jamie managed to better keep his composure this time. 

But the moment she turned around to show him the back, Jamie’s heart stopped beating and his blood ran cold in shock. 

He all but tackled her inside the dressing room, falling in after her and then frantically slamming the curtain closed. Once Claire was safely behind him in the privacy of the fitting room, Jamie peeked out a little to ensure no other customer had seen. 

Then, he very slowly turned back toward Claire, whose big honey eyes were staring up at him in question. 

He didn’t address her. Instead, very gently, he placed his hands on Claire’s shoulders and turned her so he could look at her back again. 

The sundress had a low back— a very low back— which exposed the two delicate appendages there. 

_ Wings _ . 

_ Transparent, beautifully fragile— wings. That laid perfectly flat against her back and shoulders.  _

Jamie reached a finger out, mesmerized, to gently trace the outline of them. 

But the second he made contact with the edge of one, she let out a little squeal and jerked away. 

Jamie withdrew his hand as if he was burned, clutching it to his chest in shame. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldna have—” 

“It’s alright,” she said as she turned to face him, “I just wasn’t expecting… Is that why you shoved me in here? My wings?” 

Jamie blinked several times, trying to get his brain to catch up to the situation. 

_ Of course she had wings. She was a faerie after all.  _

The sound of his name jerked him back to reality, and he realized he’d never answered her. 

“You have wings!” he exclaimed daftly, still failing to answer her question and merely staring at her, open-mouthed with astonishment. 

“Oh,” she said, glancing behind her at her back casually, as if checking to see they were still there, “of course I have wings. Purely decorative though, I’m afraid.” 

Jamie was still struck dumb, but he longed to look at them again. The dressing room was too small for him to be able to walk around her, so he simply reached out and turned her a second time. 

They were beautiful. Heartbreakingly delicate looking. He could see through them everywhere except where the veins laced through, like a butterfly’s wing. The edges curved gracefully up toward her shoulders, ending in a point. It took all his willpower to resist the urge to touch them again without permission. They laid flat against her back, and he wondered distantly if she could move them. 

As if sensing his curiosity, they suddenly fluttered back toward him— nearly hitting him in the face— and Jamie jolted backward with a surprised laugh. 

Claire shot him an amused look from over her shoulder, and fluttered them again in demonstration. 

“They’re… beautiful,” he breathed reverently. 

“Thanks,” she replied bashfully, “I always thought them dull, really. Some fae have much grander wings, mine are rather small.” 

Jamie couldn’t bear to hear any disparaging remarks aimed at the perfection that was Claire, and he made a Scottish sound of derision deep in his throat. 

“Everythin’ about ye is perfect,” he stated firmly. 

Her wings had settled back flat on her back by this point, and Claire turned around to face him, cheeks adorned with a becoming blush as she adjusted the straps of her sundress over her shoulders again. 

“Well…” Jamie said, eying her up and down, “as bonny as ye look in this dress, I’m afraid we canna buy it for fear of exposin’ ye to the world. Ye’re no’ exactly verra inconspicuous...” 

Claire bit her lip, perhaps embarrassed about forgetting that minor detail when she’d showed him outside. But he was quick to reassure her. 

“Dinna fash, Sassenach. No one saw ye earlier. Yer secret’s safe wi’ me.” 

He tried to give her a wink, which he was aware was a skill at which he was woefully inept, and she burst out laughing at his attempt. 

In that moment, he wanted more than anything to lean down and press his smile to hers. 

Before he could do anything foolish like act on the impulse, he quickly ducked out of the dressing room, eyes still fixed on Claire. 

He slipped backward through the slit at the edge of the curtain… and right into Mrs. Fitz. 

Stumbling away from her, he whirled around to find the shopkeeper with her hands on her hips, face red with admonishment. 

“James Fraser,” she uttered in a menacing voice that indicated he was in big trouble, “I understand that ye’re infatuated with yon lassie, but I canna believe that ye’d engage in— in— such  _ depravity.  _ In my shop!” 

Jamie fell back a step, hands raised defensively. 

“I wasna…” 

But Mrs. Fitz wasn’t having any of it. “I wilna condone such behavior, especially not in public when other customers are around. I’m appalled by your behavior, Jamie Fraser—” 

When she paused for breath in her tirade, face growing redder by the second, Jamie took the opportunity of the minute gap to jump in, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Fitz, but I promise we werena doin’ anythin’  _ untoward _ . Listen, we’ll take the lot and be out of yer hair.” 

Jamie gestured frantically toward the pile of dresses and shoes, then reached into his pocket for his wallet. He produced a wad of cash and held it out toward Mrs. Fitz like a peace offering. 

She looked him up and down for a long moment, eying him and the money with narrowed eyes. Jamie thought for a second that he’d be taking Claire home empty handed, but then Mrs. Fitz reached out and snatched the cash from his hands. 

“I want you out,” she said curtly. 

Jamie nodded frantically and instinctively backed away a step. Without breaking wary eye contact with Mrs. Fitz, he called into Claire, “get dressed, a nighean, we’re leaving.” 

With that, Mrs. Fitz turned on her heel and stalked away, as if she couldn’t stand to be in the presence of such a depraved lecher for one more second. Jamie sighed to himself. All of Inverness would be hearing about this within the day… no way he could hide Claire from Jenny for long. 

A minute later, Claire emerged from the dressing room, clutching the jacket to her chest. 

“Jamie, what—?” She started to ask. 

But Jamie cut her off by simply taking her hand and tugging her toward the door, his other arm juggling their purchases (which of course he had no bag for since there was no way he’d push his luck asking for one). 

Once they were safely outside in the Scottish gloom, Jamie slowed down— realizing he had been dragging the puir lass nearly off her feet in his haste to be gone. 

“What—?” She tried to ask again. 

“Nothin’ tae fash about, a nighean,” Jamie assured her, “it was only a wee misunderstandin’ wi’ Mrs. Fitz. But hopefully these dresses will do.” 

Claire, bless her, tended to take Jamie at his word, and so she didn’t press him for any more details. Quite honestly, her trust in his dismissals of things was a breath of fresh air in contrast to his sister Jenny’s stifling desire to wring every last bit of information from him. He wondered distantly just how long Claire’s innocence on this front would last. But for now she was content to let him take the lead with all things human, and he was happy to take it. 

Jamie’s strides were still long and hurried as he brought Claire back toward the car. Thankfully, she was unresisting— she’d probably had enough exploring for one day. Although Jamie knew he hadn’t  _ actually _ done anything wrong (save going in the dressing room with a fully clothed lass— because she had  _ wings  _ for pete’s sake!), he still felt like a young lad caught with his pants down around his ankles. He wanted to be away from the shop and the talk that surely would be following in their wake. 

The stream of thoughts that occupied Jamie’s brain was interrupted by Claire tripping and nearly toppling over onto the cobbles stones. 

“Woah, lass,” tumbled from Jamie’s mouth at the same time as the pile of clothes on his arm started to fall to the ground. 

With an impressive feat of juggling, he managed to pull Claire upright with one hand and only lose a couple dresses and one pair of shoes with the other. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, letting go of Jamie’s hand so she could stoop down and pick up the fallen items. When she straightened, she pulled at the legs of her sweatpants in frustrated illustration as she said, “I keep tripping over these.” 

“Weel, ye needna suffer them any longer, a nighean,” he laughed, and he lifted the shoulder holding the new clothes, “let’s find ye somewhere tae change.” 

The “somewhere” Jamie settled on was an old bookshop. It was right across the street, so Jamie simply herded his wee faerie inside, trying to make his armful of items look as discrete and nonchalant as possible. 

The bookstore was old and musty. Something about it had a feeling of another time, as if the world stopped the moment you stepped in. The bookshelves were crowded, with only narrow aisles between, and every one was stuffed to the brim with books. The lighting was rather dim, and Jamie had to squint his eyes a bit as he took it all in. Spotting the front desk, he brought Claire over to it. 

Attending the shop was a woman nearly the same age as Jamie, with long red hair that cascaded down her narrow shoulders and over a name tag that read “Geillis”. When she looked up at them, he saw that she had the most startling shade of green eyes.  _ Almost like a cat’s, _ he thought distantly. Something about her prickled the tiny hairs on the back of Jamie’s neck. 

But she greeted them quite warmly. 

“Good day, how can I be assistin’ ye?” she asked with a bright smile. 

“We’re jes’ needin’ a place tae change, do ye have a loo?” 

The lass, Geillis, eyed him up and down for a long moment before her gaze flicked to Claire. To his astonishment, the lasses made steady eye contact for a long stretch of time, green meeting whisky, and then she suddenly broke it to smile politely at Jamie. 

“Of course,” she said, “we canna have yer hen paradin’ around Inverness in that outfit, can we? It’s on the far side.” She pointed helpfully in the direction. 

“Thank ye,” Jamie said, and quickly dragged Claire off. 

After seeing her inside the bathroom to change into her white dress and new shoes, Jamie took to perusing the shelves. All the books were old, likely this was a secondhand shop, and mostly titles he didn’t recognize. He became absorbed in the looking, though, so much so that he nearly jumped out of his skin when a figure appeared beside him. 

“Find anythin’ interesting?” Geillis asked. 

Jamie quickly composed himself after the fright, and answered, “eh… jes’ lookin’. Quite an assortment of titles ye have here.” 

He ran a finger over the spine of one of the books. 

“Quite,” she agreed, “I take pride in procuring the selection.” 

“Ye own the shop then?” Jamie asked. 

A nod in confirmation. “My name’s Geillis Duncan, nice tae meet ye,” she said, extending her hand. 

Jamie took it, shaking amicably, and replied, “James Fraser.” 

“It appears ye and yer lass have had quite the… adventure…?” She said with raised brows and a glint in her eye. 

“Oh, she’s not my—“ but Jamie cut himself off, finding that he didn’t have it in him to deny the thing he so desperately wanted. Instead, he finished lamely, “aye, we have.”

He wasn’t exactly sure what compelled him to admit it, but he suddenly added, “honestly, I’m at a bit of a loss.” 

At that moment, the door to the washroom opened, and Claire emerged, clad in her white dress. As she made her way toward them, a book was suddenly shoved into his hand. 

He looked down in surprise, and then up at Geillis. 

“This one is on me,” she whispered, drawing close to his ear, “read it carefully, fox.” 

Bewildered, he didn’t have any reply. And apparently he didn’t need one. Because he had glanced over at Claire, and when he looked back toward Geillis, she was gone. 

“Ready?” Claire asked as she reached him. 

Jamie shook himself out of his startlement at the shopkeeper's abrupt disappearance and gave Claire a smile. 

“Aye, lass.” 

Hand in hand again, they walked out of the shop, the book Geillis had given him still tucked under his arm. 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I couldn't resist giving her wings, it was too tempting... (No, really, I have reasons for most things when it comes to Claire but this was purely because I wanted to 😂). Thanks so much to everyone for reading, sending love!! ❤️
> 
> Also: if you’re not following me on tumblr but are interested in seeing my moodboards for this story, feel free to hit me up there at the same username @jamiemackenziefraser


	10. Near Misses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Jamie make one last surprise stop in Inverness.

“Here, put back on yer jacket, lass,” Jamie said to a shivering Claire, extricating it rather clumsily from the pile of clothes on his arm and handing it to her. 

The puir lass still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of the whole “weather” thing, and as the sun hid behind the clouds and the air grew cooler, she was beginning to tremble. 

Claire took the jacket from him, her fingers brushing his in the process, and he found himself shivering as well— though not from cold. 

They were almost back to where the car was parked. Jamie’s plan was to dump the awkward armful of loose clothes, but he was hoping that their outing wouldn’t end quite yet...

“I ken this has been quite the day for ye, a nighean,” Jamie began tentatively as he opened the trunk, “but I had one more thing in mind that I think ye might enjoy. Would ye like to see it or do ye want tae go home?” 

Her arms were wrapped around herself as Jamie shoved everything into the trunk and closed it. When he looked up, she was nodding eagerly. 

“I would love to.” 

A broad smile spread over Jamie’s face. He wasn’t sure she’d say yes, quiet as she’d been since they left the store, but he was delighted by her enthusiasm and hoped she’d like their last stop. 

Jamie locked the car with a beep before turning toward Claire again. Spotting her opened jacket, he muttered “ach, ye’ll freeze”, then stepped closer and reached out for the zipper. 

She looked up at him with huge whisky eyes and he had no choice but to meet them. He hyper-aware of the proximity to her body as he drew the zipper up very slowly, each tooth coming together inch by inch. The moment seemed to drag on for eternity, but he didn’t want to let go. Once the zipper reached the top, Jamie’s hand lingered, just barely under her chin. He was so close to her that he could feel the puffs of her breath, and his whole body thrummed with the tension that sparked between them. 

_ How easy it’d be to tug her just the tiniest bit closer and— _

Claire’s chest rose under his fingers in a shaky inhale, and that was what broke him out of the trance.

Stepping away from her sharply, he shattered the moment of connection like a stone thrown into a placid pond. The forced distance between them tugged at his heart, but he retreated to a safe couple feet away— where his brain could work enough to keep him from acting on his inclinations. 

He couldn’t have named the look on Claire’s face, but her usually expressive features seemed to fall into a carefully placed mask of neutrality. He gave her a smile in reassurance, hoping she wasn’t offended by his odd behavior, and offered her his hand. Touch was a comfort to her, and he wouldn’t dream of withholding that just because it turned his head and his heart into mush. 

The moment she took it, he began to lead her in the direction of their last stop. 

**

The Inverness Botanical Gardens were only a couple blocks away. As soon as they entered the gates, Claire’s eyes went wide with delight as she took in the expanse of colorful plants and flowers in bloom. She stopped walking abruptly, and simply stood in enrapturement, hand clutching Jamie’s even tighter. 

“See. Humans arena sae bad,” he joked. 

Either she didn’t hear him or didn’t care to respond, wrapped up in the scenery as she was. 

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed reverently. 

To his surprise, she let go of his hand, walked a few steps over to the nearest bed of flowers, and promptly dropped to her knees. Jamie’s heart clenched in endearment as he watched his Sassenach reach out and caress the leaves of the various plants. She seemed to want to touch every one, torn between frenzy and delicacy as her hands moved everywhere. 

He could have watched her enjoy herself like this for days, completely uncaring of the people passing them by who were likely giving them queer looks. But he only had eyes for Claire. 

It struck him once again how fitting the name Sorcha was for her. She was truly becoming his light— brightening his whole world, his very existence. In comparison, his days before her seemed so empty. He felt oddly detached from that time before Claire, as if it was a different lifetime rather than several days ago. 

If he was certain of anything, it was that he couldn’t go back to living that minute existence. Not when he knew the joy that was loving her. 

Every time Jamie lost himself in such thoughts, he had to spend the next while talking himself off the ledge. This time was no different. As he watched Claire touch the plants (she’d moved on to the next bed by this point), he desperately tried to force his brain back to rationality. 

_ Okay, so ye love her. There’s no helping that. But for Christ’s sake, lad, keep yerself together. Ye’re the one person she has in the world. Ye canna be making declarations of love, that isna fair to her.  _

It was the same words he told himself over and over. 

_ Ye can be her friend. That’s enough.  _

But as he watched the awe and delight shining on her face that made his own brighten in answer, he felt like his heart was on his sleeve— on display for the whole world and aching with the yearning. 

_ God, he burned for her.  _

He was shaken from his besottment by a worker approaching Claire. Protective instinct flaring, he took a few steps toward his faerie, meaning to put himself between them. The moment she noticed the young man beside her, she bolted to her feet, stumbling backward into Jamie. 

“Sorry, didna mean to startle ye,” the young man said to her. 

Jamie placed both hands on her shoulders, trying to still her and communicate that everything was alright. Sliding one hand down to her back, steadying, Jamie stepped up to her side. 

The worker lifted his hand to scratch a little awkwardly at the back of his neck. “It’s just that I couldna help but notice yer enthusiasm. Are ye a botanist yerself then?” 

Claire shot Jamie a look over, brows furrowed, and he quickly answered for her. “Nae, but it is a bit of a hobby for her.” 

The lad gave a nod. “Oh, very good. Well, I hope you enjoy yer visit. Dinna forget to check out our greenhouse.” 

Just as he was turning away to leave, Claire suddenly burst out, “This flower—” The young man turned around, following Claire’s point to a small patch of flowers, “the sobrach albannach…” 

He looked a little confused, but simply said, “primula scotia, or Scottish primrose. What of it?” 

“It’s getting too much water. It’s choking the life from the plant.”

The poor lad had no idea how to respond, completely taken aback. He stared at her open mouthed for a second, and then looked back at the plants, eyes narrowing in thought. Then, he stooped down to inspect them even closer. 

“Ye’re right,” he exclaimed in astonishment. He looked up at her with a smile spreading over his face, “thank ye.” 

Claire beamed, looking incredibly proud of herself, and Jamie couldn’t help but swell a little as well. 

“My pleasure. Do take care of them,” she said sweetly. 

With that, she slipped her hand back into Jamie’s and they walked away, leaving the worker to his Scottish Primrose. 

*

“How did you ken that?” Jamie asked once they were a fair distance away. 

“I can feel it, can’t you?” Claire answered matter-of-factly. She looked up at him in question, and Jamie shook his head. 

“We canna.” 

Claire gave a shrug, not particularly bothered. “Plants are the lifeblood of this earth. You have to care for them, treat them with respect.” 

That didn’t do much to answer Jamie’s questions, but he decided to let it go in favor of enjoying Claire’s company. They walked on for a while, Claire absorbed in the various flora. Since not all of it was native to Scotland, she would sometimes let out a squeal of excitement when discovering something new (though now she mostly stayed anchored to his side). It took the depths of Jamie’s botanical knowledge to try to provide her with insights about some of the ones with which she wasn’t familiar, but unfortunately that didn’t extend very far and the lass was left burning with curiosity. 

Curiosity was not exclusive to her, though. Jamie had been burning with questions about the faerie ever since he’d met her, and only little-by-little did he come to discover more about her. 

One unexpected incident brought an intriguing discovery. 

While they walked hand in hand through the gardens, their pace a leisurely stroll, they passed by a family of what appeared to be tourists. 

“Ven aquí*,” the mother (or at least that’s who Jamie assumed she was) shouted to her child, a little girl trailing a few feet behind with tears rolling down her face. 

“M- me quedo aquí,” the child cried in hitching sobs of agitation. Obviously she was having a bit of a meltdown. Jamie was familiar with the woes of tantrums from his nieces and nephews, and tried to lead Claire away. But his Sassenach remained rooted to the spot. 

“No tenemos tiempo para esto,” the mother shot back with exasperation in her weary tone as she waved a beckoning hand. 

“No voy a salir,” the girl’s voice was almost a scream now, her parents and siblings getting farther away. It seemed the mother was going to play the “I’ll leave without you” card. 

Claire’s eyes had gone wide and disturbed witnessing the exchange. She shot a look at Jamie, then back at the girl. To Jamie’s astonishment, she let go of his hand and walked straight up to the crying child. 

Kneeling down, Claire gently asked, “¿Qué pasó, querida? ¿Por qué no quieres ir con tu familia?” 

Jamie’s mouth dropped open.  _ What the devil did she say? _

His brain was still trying to process Claire’s perfect accent and apparent fluency in Spanish when the girl replied with a hitching, “Se me perdió mi flor.” 

“¿Tu flor? Hay muchas flores aquí.” Claire responded gently. 

“Sí, p-pero ésta fue especial, y se me perdió y ahora no puedo encontrarla,” the little girl sobbed as she clutched her chest, her words coming out in a jumbled rush. 

“No te preocupes, podemos buscar juntas,” Claire replied in a soothing tone. 

Jamie was trying desperately to keep up with the situation and wondering how the hell Claire knew Spanish. He had no idea what she’d said, but in the next second, Claire was taking the little girl’s hand and walking toward an offshoot of the path, still speaking back and forth. 

Fearing a potential kidnapping scandal and not wanting to lose sight of his displaced faerie, Jamie scampered after her, calling, “Claire!” 

She looked back at him, halting, and gave him a smile, as if oblivious to the fact that she was about to run off with a strange child in tow. Apparently sensing his worry, she explained, “it’s alright, Jamie. I’m just helping her find her flower so she can leave with her family.” 

His rapid heart rate slowed exponentially. He was still struggling a little to grasp Claire’s apparent Spanish knowledge and wondering if somehow there were varieties of Hispanic fae that had ended up in Scotland, so he simply responded with a daft “oh.” 

It was at that moment that Claire’s head swiveled to a spot just behind Jamie and she let out an exclamation. She dropped the girl’s hand and darted toward a nearby flower bed. Jamie turned to watch as— with practiced ease— she plucked a flower from the bush. 

“Yo sé que no es la misma, pero esta flor es especial también. Es mi favorita. ¿Le gusta?” 

Claire stretched the flower out toward the little girl in offering. There was silence for a moment, then a cry of delight. The little girl suddenly ran forward and launched herself right into Claire’s arms, scooping up the flower from her hand and wrapping Claire’s neck in a hug all at the same time. The faerie laughed happily, giving the girl a pat on the back. 

With only a quick, “¡gracias!”, the girl was running after her family. 

“De nada,” Claire called after her with a blinding smile that only Jamie was privy to. (He’d take it. He’d take all of her smiles and hold them dear in his heart, even if he wasn’t the recipient.) 

Then— looking incredibly nonchalant— she straightened up, walked over to Jamie, and slipped her hand back into his. 

Left slightly flabbergasted from the whole situation, Jamie stayed motionless in the spot, looking down at her. 

Claire returned his gaze quizzically. 

“You— you speak Spanish?” Jamie asked after recovering his tongue. 

She nodded, casually, but didn’t expand. 

“So you speak English, Gaelic, and Spanish... Do fae speak more languages?” 

She looked at him with an indulgent smile, as if— of all the questions he’d asked her during their time together— this was the foolish one. “I speak hundreds of languages.” 

He boggled at this, turning a little so he could look at her better. 

“Human languages?” 

“Of course! And others.” 

“You astound me,” he breathed, “in- in the best way,” he hastily added. “Here I was thinkin’ I was impressive speakin’ Gaelic, English, and a wee bit of French.” 

She smiled brightly. “You  _ are  _ impressive, Jamie. You know how to do so much— things I could never imagine...” 

Jamie warmed all the way through at her praise, and gave her hand a slight squeeze. 

Though he was still burning to know more, this wasn’t the place for a 101 course on faeries. He took her hand and continued walking, essentially putting an end to that conversation. The visitors of the park were gradually filtering out, providing nice privacy as they strolled along, but he still didn’t want to risk it. He had to bite his tongue to avoid asking things that might prove problematic should others overhear. 

So they walked along, chatting about safer topics. Jamie tried to explain the purpose and function of a botanical garden, and Claire listened with rapt attention. As they strolled, though, she began to grow quiet. Claire drew closer to Jamie, her arm pressed against his, and no longer made moves to touch any of the plants they passed. 

The sun was just starting to go down, illuminating the path with a soft, golden light. When he looked down at Claire, he could see it reflecting off her curls, highlighting streaks of varying shades of brown. 

“Are ye tired, lass?” He asked after Claire had been particularly quiet for a bit. 

She gave a slight bob of the chin, and at her nod, Jamie led them over to a park bench. 

They sat down together, Claire pressing herself flush against his side. She wasn’t shivering— thank God— but she seemed particularly clingy.

“Thank you for today, Jamie,” she said softly, “I never could have done it without you. I… I actually had a great time.” 

Contentment swelled through Jamie. “I’m glad, mo nighean donn. And dinna mention it, I’m jes’ glad I could be wi’ ye.” 

“I mean it,” she looked up at him, eyes wide and earnest, “I don’t know where I’d be without you. Lost and alone…” 

A shudder ran through her, and Jamie felt an answering one of his own creep up his spine at the thought of Claire by herself. 

“I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing for me,” she finished. 

“Ye dinna even ken….” he murmured, mostly to himself. He shook his head as his own thoughts overwhelmed him. 

“What don’t I know?” she prompted, and Jamie realized that he’d actually said it out loud. 

The way she was looking at him— those honey eyes soft and empathetic, making his wame twist into knots— he had to tell her the truth. 

_ “I _ was alone before you. I had my family, of course— my sister and brother-in-law and their children. But I went home to an empty house every night. Went through my routine, slept in the dark alone, and then did it all again the next day. Oh, Claire,” his voice caught in his throat, “ye turned my life upside down in the best way. I didna ken how much I needed you until suddenly I’d found ye. And I canna even imagine life now without ye in it…” 

His eyes were brimming with tears by the time he finished, and Sorcha was looking at him with the warmest expression. Almost… loving? 

“You have me now,” she whispered. Her wee hand raised up to his face, softly brushing over his jaw in one grounding stroke. 

_ But he didn’t. Lord help him for his greed, but he wanted her forever. As his own.  _

He looked down at her and her hand stilled on his face, but she made no move to withdraw it. Jamie was breathing raggedly, feeling a pull toward her that took all his willpower to resist. Her face was tilted up toward him—  _ so damn close _ — and the air felt thick and heavy. 

She never broke their locked gaze, just stared up at him warmly. Jamie knew his heart must be in his eyes.  _ Surely she could see it?  _

He found himself drifting just the slightest bit closer, his face tilting down… 

But he loved her too much to bridge the distance. 

So he froze there, completely under her spell and happy to be there, yet heartbroken by all the things he couldn’t allow himself to have. 

Claire seemed to notice the change in him, because she drew back a bit. She glanced down at her lap, then away from Jamie. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of pink gracing those high cheekbones. 

_ But surely that couldn’t mean anything…  _

“It’s getting late,” he stated lamely. 

That snapped her attention back to him. “Please, let’s stay a little longer,” she pleaded. 

He could never say no to her. 

So there they sat, pressed close together. Claire took his hand again as the silence spread between them like a warm blanket— not stifling or awkward, simply the comfort of  _ togetherness.  _ Her hand had been in his all day, yet somehow the electric shock he got when he made contact with her never diminished. 

After a while, the sky began to show streaks of colors. The sun had fallen below the horizon, leaving a glow of pink and orange in its wake. From their vantage point on the bench, they could see the river, which reflected the colors in a brilliant display, like a second sky below. It couldn’t have been more perfect if Jamie had planned it himself. 

Claire’s head tilted toward him, leaning closer and closer until finally it was nestled on his shoulder. He squeezed her hand gently as his wame did the familiar flip-flop, not wanting to break the stillness but wanting her to know he was glad of her touch. They cuddled on that bench long after the sunset faded and the street lights blinked on. 

“Ye’ve had a long day,” Jamie murmured finally. He tilted his head down to look at her, and found her eyes were closed. “Let’s get ye home, lass.” 

She raised her head from his shoulder with slow reluctance, blinking her eyes drowsily.

_ Oh God, he loved her.  _

“Ready to go, a nighean?” he asked her softly. 

She sleepily hummed, but gave no other response. He chuckled at her fondly, a rumble deep in his chest, and tucked an errant curl behind Claire’s ear. 

“Dinna fall asleep on me now,” he teased. 

Her eyes fluttered open then and regarded him with a look of pure innocence. “I’m not sleeping.” 

To prove herself, she got to her feet, but refused to let go of Jamie’s hand in the process. He followed her lead and stood up beside her. With that, he took her from the gardens and back out toward the car, his sweet lass occasionally swaying against him as they walked.

She seemed less drowsy by the time they made it to the parking lot, but the moment they were seated inside the car, she was draping herself over the cupholder and into his lap. 

His heart clenched with reminiscence of three days ago when he’d found himself in this exact position. How terrified he’d been then, so excited but bewildered, already entranced by the sweet faerie. He’d been in way over his head then, but now— now he was positively drowning in the intoxication of her. 

He never wanted to let her go.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The exchanges in Spanish aren’t pivotal for understanding the story (after all, we’re in Jamie’s POV, who doesn’t understand Spanish), but here’s what they’re saying in case anyone is interested. 
> 
> Mother: Come here  
> Child: I’m staying here  
> Mom: We don’t have time for this  
> Child: I’m not leaving  
> Claire: What happened, dear one? Why don’t you want to go with your family?  
> Child: I lost my flower  
> Claire: Your flower? There are a lot of flowers here.  
> Child: Yes, but this one was special, and I lost it and now I can’t find it.  
> Claire: Don’t worry, we can look together  
> Claire: I know it’s not the same, but this flower is special too. It’s my favorite. Do you like it?  
> ___  
> This chapter was alternately titled "Jamie takes Claire on their first date but is too oblivious to realize it" hahaha 😂😂. Thanks so much for reading and hope you enjoyed!!


	11. Busted on All Fronts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie receives an unwelcome surprise, then an accident sparks new discoveries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of insanely cold temps shutting my city down, here's a chapter I hadn't expected to post yet!

When they arrived home that night, Jamie thought it likely that he’d end up carrying her inside again. He came around to her side, opened the door, and then gently shook her shoulder. She woke just enough to get out of the car, but the second Claire was on her feet, she was leaning into Jamie and twining her arms around his neck. 

He wrapped his own arms, in turn, around her waist (just to steady her), and pulled her closer with forbidden longing tugging at his heart. 

“Jamie?” she murmured. 

“What is it, a nighean?” 

She was quiet for a long second. 

“Oh… nothing.” 

That unsettled him a bit; he wanted desperately to know what her sleepy confession might have been, but he wouldn’t press her. 

“Want me to take ye up tae bed, lass?” he asked, his heart skipping a beat as he made the suggestion. It was a completely innocent offer to carry her inside, but his mind couldn’t help drifting to the implications…

“That would be nice,” she mumbled against his chest. 

So, not one to refuse his Sassenach any request, he lifted her off her feet and carried her inside. 

Jamie was a stubborn man. He liked to think that meant he adhered to his principles, but Jenny always said it was just that he was hard-heided. Whichever it was, he insisted on putting her in the guest room— despite the evidence to hand that she wouldn’t be inclined to stay there. 

He deposited her gently into bed, watching as she sleepily settled in. She was well and truly conked out, the sweet lass, and Jamie thought she just might be too tired to wake herself up and climb into bed with him.  _ Perhaps tonight would be the night she finally managed to stay in her own room? _

And that thought disappointed Jamie more than he cared to admit. 

Flicking off the light and leaving her to her bed, Jamie headed toward his own room. He stopped dead in his tracks when a thought suddenly occurred to him. 

_ Real life. _ He’d forgotten nearly everything that day— caught up with Claire as he was. He hadn’t eaten since that morning, nor had he thought about work, which was expecting him the next day. 

But there was no way he’d be leaving Claire tomorrow, no way in hell, so he whipped out his phone. 

This time— not wanting to deal with Ian’s incessant questions (which surely would have only grown with the added day)— he simply shot him a text. 

<<Sorry, brother, I need another day. I trust you can take care of things. Thank you for understanding.>>

That taken care of, he headed downstairs. First order of business: the pile of clothes and things were still in the car (his hands had been a little full of a certain faerie when he’d come in the house), and he groaned before heading outside. He scooped up the heap and then went straight back in, dropping everything carelessly on one chair in the living room. The little book at the very bottom of the pile lay forgotten. 

Next, Jamie headed for some food. 

Adso sat on his lap as he ate at the table, probably feeling a bit neglected. He made sure to give him plenty of attention with indulgent one-handed scritches. Guilt was starting to tug at him as he thought about the responsibilities he’d been shirking ever since he’d stumbled across Claire. The lass made him lose his damn mind when he was around her, and he hoped someday he’d actually get it back and be able to attend to his responsibilities again. The company would do fine without him for a few days, but they did need him. Eventually he’d have to break free of this bubble he was living in and return to his obligations. 

He didn’t want to think about that, though. It was too painful to imagine explaining to Claire that he was leaving her for the day— her big, sad eyes as he walked out the door, leaving her upset and alone in the unfamiliar house… 

Jamie actually shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the disconcerting thoughts. 

*

Once he was properly showered and prepared for bed, he tossed his phone on the dresser face down and collapsed onto the mattress. It was only 10 pm, but he felt as worn out as if he’d been up for three consecutive days. 

Sure enough, only minutes after Jamie settled into bed, Claire came padding into his room, rubbing at bleary eyes. She was like clockwork, his faerie. 

He made no protestations this time. His earlier disappointment at the thought of her no longer wishing to share his bed deliciously ebbed away as she came toward him. Simply opening his arms for her, he rumbled, “come ‘ere, lass,” and Claire laid down beside him, resting her head on his chest and melting against him. 

“Goodnight,” he whispered into her hair. 

But she was already asleep again, breathing evenly, chest rising and falling against his side. 

Jamie followed her shortly, ensconced in the warm contentment of having her, once again, wrapped in his arms. 

_ Where she belonged.  _

*

Jamie woke abruptly the next morning to the incessant ring of his doorbell. Whoever was at the door must have lost their bloody mind, because the  _ ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong _ was obnoxiously unceasing. 

“Ifrinn,” he cursed under his breath as he shot out of bed. 

Claire, startled into wakefulness by his body leaving hers, jolted upright and looked wildly around the room as if expecting attack. 

“Stay here,” he told her as he darted from the room. 

Stumbling down the stairs, trying to run his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair and blinking away the remnants of unconsciousness, he made his way to the front door. 

“I’m coming, haud yer wheesht!” he called in frustration. 

The ringing stopped just as he reached the door. When he flung it open, he was greeted with the sight of his sister Jenny standing on his porch, her arms crossed and eyes glaring daggers, and Ian lingering just behind her. 

“What the devil are ye doin h—” he started, but Jenny interrupted him. 

“What the devil am  _ I _ doin? What the devil are  _ ye  _ doin!” 

She shouldered her way past him, barging inside without a shred of social decorum. Her dander was clearly up. Jamie stood rooted in his spot, staring straight ahead, and Ian simply gave him a shrug. Then, his brother-in-law followed his wife inside, and Jamie was left to trail after them into his own house. 

“I dinna recall invitin’ ye in, Janet,” he grumbled as he shut the door behind them. 

Jenny was in no mood. “Four days and no’ a single word from ye? I’ve texted ye  _ countless  _ times, called ye even more, and ye dinna have the  _ decency  _ to let me know ye’re alive!” Her voice was raised in confrontation, and as she laid into him, her face grew redder with the heat of the upcoming battle. 

Jamie tried to maintain his cool in the face of this tirade.

“I told Ian I needed some days off,” he said patiently, “besides. I am no’ a child, Janet. I dinna have tae tell ye where I am at all times.”

Ian chose that moment to jump in, which was probably good timing, because Jenny looked close to exploding at his response. “Where  _ have  _ ye been, Jamie?” 

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Here. At home. Believe it or no’, sometimes people just need a break.”. 

“Oh, is that so?” Jenny hissed, “Then why is Mrs. Fitz callin’ me up to inform me ye were shagging a lassie in her dressin’ room?” 

Jamie threw his hands up in agitation. “Christ! I wasna doin’ anythin’!” 

“But ye were wi’ a lassie?” Jenny demanded. 

“Aye, but—” 

“Christ, Jamie! Is she the reason ye disappeared?” Her roaring tone had fallen into one that was more exasperated and accusatory. 

Jamie didn’t have an answer for her, mind grappling with how best to proceed— he clearly couldn’t tell her the truth about Claire, no way in hell she’d believe him. Jenny took his silence as a confirmation though, and her eyes blazed. He gave her a shrug. 

This insolence was apparently the last straw for Jenny as she threw her hand up to stop him from speaking and averted her face in disgust. 

“Who is she?” she asked in an even, low voice— one that indicated she would not tolerate anything but a straight answer. 

“Jenny, she’s _ no one _ ,” he said firmly, trying to infuse his voice with enough sincerity that his sister would take his word, “listen. She’s nothin’ but a fling. Somethin’ tae pass the time. I was feelin’ burnt out from work and… I jes’ needed tae blow off a bit of steam, is all.” 

The whole time he was speaking, Jenny had been deflating. Her shoulders lowered from their confrontational set and the fire in her eyes was dying down. Ian, on the other hand, stood there with wide eyes, his jaw fallen open. 

“Jamie,” Ian said, “I have never kent ye tae ‘have a fling,’ as ye say.”

“Well maybe ye dinna ken me as well as ye think,” was the first thing that came to Jamie’s mind to say. “Now, if ye’re quite finished interrogatin’ me about my love life and sticking yer neb where it doesnae belong, will ye please leave me tae have my day off in peace?” 

He thought they were both so taken aback that they just might leave without a fight. His suspicions were proved correct when Ian, face tinted with the heat of shame, took Jenny’s arm and started steering her toward the door. 

“Goodbye, Janet,” Jamie said pointedly as they stepped outside. 

“Goodbye,” his sister said numbly as Ian pushed her in the direction of their car. 

Resisting the urge to slam the door in her nosy face, Jamie closed and locked it. He still fumed from Jenny’s confrontation.  _ The audacity. For her to barge into his house demanding answers, defaming his character… _

He was just rounding the corner of the hall to head upstairs when he was stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of Claire, hand braced against the wall, eyes wet and shining with tears. 

She looked up at him when he froze in front of her, and the expression on her face nearly ended him. Heartbreak, betrayal, sorrow— all glittered in those bonny whisky eyes. 

_ “‘No one?’” _ she whispered, repeating his earlier words. 

A tear escaped the corner of her eye and trailed slowly down the side of her face. The sight of it was like an arrow to the chest, and his heart leapt to his throat. The precursor to full blown panic. 

For her part, Claire was completely motionless, save the slight heaving of her chest as she tried to keep herself in check.

Jamie reached out for her instinctively, but she shied away from his touch with a sharp step back, and his hand froze midair. 

_ Oh God, never before had she done that.  _

“No,” he breathed, all the air punched out of him, _ “no,  _ Claire, I didna mean that.” 

“That was your sister, wasn’t it? She asked, her voice tiny but accusatory. More tears were leaking from her brimming eyes now, and Jamie was torn apart with longing to take her into his arms. “You told your sister I was nothing to you?” 

She was angry, Jamie could tell. But it was the kind of anger that was a poor façade covering barely restrained hurt. Although she was standing firm in herself, her voice— and even her demeanor— seemed tiny. It was as if she was angry at him while at the same time wanting desperately for him to fix things.

“But it wasna true, mo chridhe,” he forced out, agonized to see the effect his words had on her, “I jes’ had tae tell her somethin’ t’ get her tae stop askin’ about you.” 

“Because you’re ashamed of me?” 

The breathy question rocked him to his core. 

“No,” he shook his head forcefully, “no, mo nighean donn—” 

“I can’t blame you,” she interrupted, and then her words came faster, “I just fell out of the sky and into your lap and  _ ruined everything  _ for you. Of course you don’t want to tell your family about the poor lost faerie you took pity on and—” 

“‘Ruined everything’?” he repeated numbly, shaking his head again as his brain wrestled with that particular phrase. 

“That is why they were here? You haven’t been seeing them? Or going to… what is it called?” 

“Work,” he answered automatically, “but listen to me—” 

She swiped a hand frustratedly over her face to clear the falling tears. She _ wasn’t _ listening to him, and Jamie desperately reached out and took her hand. 

Claire tried to jerk it away, but he held fast. His fingers were insistent but gentle on her soft skin. Every part of him entreated her to just  _ hear  _ the truth and to know the depth of his heart for her. 

“Listen to me, Sorcha,” he said firmly, “you havna ‘ruined’ anything. These past few days wi’ you… they’ve been the best days I’ve had in a long time. Maybe in my life. And I’m  _ not  _ ashamed of you. It’s jes’ that they dinna even believe in the fair folk, so it would be too much for them if I told the truth now. So I lied. Do ye hear me, Claire? I lied to them to stop their questions.” 

She was still, looking up at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. She looked desperate to believe him, but was warring inside herself. 

It shattered him to see what the overheard words—  _ his  _ words, ones he’d chosen to say— had done to her. 

He had to make it right. He would. He couldn’t lose her over this. 

“I’m  _ so  _ sorry, mo chridhe. Ye were never meant tae hear that, because it  _ was not true.  _ Ye mean so much tae me. And with time, I promise I will tell my family the truth. Please, Sassenach,  _ believe me.”  _

The next few seconds when Claire remained motionless were the longest of Jamie’s life. His heart raced in his chest and the still silence weighed heavy on his bones. 

Finally… finally… she gave a wordless nod. 

Jamie let out the breath he’d been holding. He wanted desperately to reach out and smooth away the sad crease between her brows, to wipe away the tears and hurt and pain from her face. There were so many things he longed to do, but for the moment, he had to be content with having only her hand in his and her acceptance of his apology. 

Claire had finally managed to form words, and looked up at him with her face set. 

“I believe you,” she said quietly. 

That broke all his resolve. 

He bridged the distance between them and took her into his arms, hugging her tightly. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair, “I’m so sorry.” 

So near he had come to the world dropping out beneath his feet. So close to driving her away with a careless misunderstanding... 

But Jamie’s shattered heart was miraculously healed the moment Claire’s arms wrapped around him in return. 

_ Forgiveness.  _

A sob almost burst from his chest, but he managed to restrain it. Instead, he simply embraced her more tightly, pouring out unspoken promises into the touch. 

_ I won’t hurt you like this again. I won’t betray your trust. I promise I’ll tell them with time.  _

And as she squeezed him tighter in return, he knew she accepted them. 

*

A short while later, Jamie found himself in the kitchen chopping vegetables for his lunch. Claire had asked him if she could take a shower, likely needing a moment to herself, so he’d taken her to the bathroom and turned it on for her before reluctantly leaving her to collect herself. His thoughts were spinning with regret and guilt, but every time he began to berate himself, he grounded his turmoil with the knowledge of her forgiveness. 

He’d heard the shower turn off minutes ago and hoped Claire would be coming to find him soon, but he wouldn’t push her. She needed to come to him. If not, he’d let her have her space. 

All of a sudden, the tip of the knife blade he was wielding sliced into his finger, having missed the edge of the tomato and glided straight into the skin of his forefinger. 

He cursed as pain zinged through him and he dropped the knife. The blood was already beginning to well up, dripping onto the cutting board, and he quickly grabbed the dish towel and wrapped it around the wounded digit. It was nothing too serious, but still hurt like the devil. 

Jamie was cursing under his breath when a voice came from the doorway. “Jamie?” 

He whirled around to see Claire, standing across the room, her eyes wide with concern. 

“Are you alright?” she anxiously asked. 

The faerie had caught sight of the blood on the cutting board and all of a sudden was rushing toward him. Jamie didn’t even have time to tell her not to worry. She just took his wrapped hands in hers— with equal parts desperation and gentleness— and demanded, “what happened?” 

“Dinna fash, it’s no’ but a wee scratch. The bleeding will stop in a minute,” he assured her. 

She was studying his face with concern, eyes darting to the bloody cutting board and then back up to him. 

“Let me see,” she said firmly, leaving no room for argument. 

He hadn’t even given his consent before she started to unwrap the towel. With the loss of pressure, more blood came welling up from the cut. Heedless of the bleeding, though, Claire dropped the towel to the floor and wrapped one hand around his fingers, placing the other on top. 

Jamie would have attributed what happened next to a blood loss hallucination if it wasn’t for the fact that he hadn’t actually lost all that much blood. 

A glow of soft yellow light shone from between Claire’s cupped hands, and then a warm, tingling sensation began in Jamie’s finger. As the light from her palms grew brighter, the pain started to ebb, little by little. Jamie could hardly wrap his head around it, and simply stared down at their hands with wide, disbelieving eyes. After only another second, even the residual sting was gone. The glowing light died away and Claire removed her hands, revealing his finger— completely unblemished, with not a single hint of damaged skin. 

Jamie’s mouth gaped open as he looked at her in astonishment. 

“Ye…” his wits were gone and he had trouble forming the words, “Did ye—? Ye can…  _ heal?”  _

Claire gave an offhanded shrug. “All it takes is a little concentration and energy,” she stated, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. 

Jamie was still dumbfounded. “I— eh… wow! Thank ye, lass,” he finally managed. 

He was so blown away by her that his brain didn’t comprehend when she took his hand in hers and began gently rubbing it. There was no trace of injury left, but she still seemed troubled, and was stroking his hand comfortingly. Her thumb traced several times over the spot where the cut had been. 

His slightly addled brain found her distress over him incredibly endearing. When she stooped down to grab the towel and began to gently wipe away the residual blood, Jamie simply stood still and allowed her to care for him. 

Once she was finished cleaning off his skin, she looked up at him with a startlingly fierce expression on her face. 

“You need to be more careful,” she said, “you had me worried.” 

Jamie couldn’t help but smile. “Really, it was nothin’, lass. Besides, I have you tae patch me up now, it seems.” 

Claire was not smiling. Her face was set in concern, brows furrowed as she gazed up at him. 

“I won’t lose you,” she said softly. 

“Oh, mo nighean donn, ye wilna lose me.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly, demonstrating its capability, “I’ll be careful. I promise.” 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any ideas about what Claire's sleepy confession might have been? 😌🥰;)  
> As always, thanks so much for reading, lovelies!! ❤️


	12. Billows and Breeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burning questions pave the way for a few much-needed answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm back! Thanks so much for your patience, I know it's been a few weeks. Life is pretty overwhelming for me at the moment, but you better believe I still really want to be posting about these two cinnamon rolls. I hope the wait for this chapter was worth it!

After the unfortunate incident with the knife, Claire had been reluctant to leave his side, still buzzing with worry over him. She’d gotten herself well and truly worked up, and Jamie thought that they needed to do something lighthearted and low-stakes. The day so far had been so charged with tense energy that Jamie thought perhaps being outside in the familiarity and tranquility of nature would do her some good. 

“Do ye fancy a hike?” he asked Claire, who was sitting curled up on the couch. Immediately remembering that “hike” was likely not a word in her vocabulary, he amended, “a wee walk about outside?” 

Claire’s face brightened instantly and she perked up. “Oh can we? I feel so stuffed up!” 

Jamie was proud of himself for once again correctly guessing what would be good for her.  _ Perhaps he had her figured out now…  _

Thus the preparations began. It was an unseasonably warm day for autumn in Scotland, so Jamie was comfortable with Claire wearing one of the armload of dresses provided she also wore his jacket. Most of them still lay on the chair where he’d deposited them the night before. He grabbed one out for Claire, handed it to her, and then she disappeared off to change. When all of the rest of the dresses had been draped over his arm to bring upstairs, he noticed the book laying on the chair.  _ The Woman of Balnain.  _

Alarm bells went off in his head, and his curiosity peaked, but he didn’t have any time to spare to look into the book. It’d have to wait. As he tossed the clothes upstairs in the guest bedroom, he took a stop by his office to place the book on his desk.  _ Soon.  _

For his own preparations, he suited up in his well-loved hiking boots, packed a backpack of water and snacks, and considered their destination. Claire likely wasn’t interested in a car journey (she’d had enough excitement for one day), so perhaps just a walk about his property and a stroll to the neighboring monro. It truly was beautiful: the heather was in full bloom this time of year, turning the hills into sweeping seas of purple. Claire would love it. 

So, they escaped out the back door and set out side-by-side along his property. They weren’t touching, just amicably basking in each other’s nearness. About two steps in, Jamie realized he needed to slow his pace. His long legs and inexhaustible hiker’s energy would far outpace his wee faerie. 

“I never thought tae ask…” Jamie began as they walked along, Claire’s face upturned toward the sunlight peeking through the clouds, “how old are ye?” 

“Oh…” she looked down shyly and then glanced back up at him from under her lashes, “I'm quite young really, I’m only 9 and 30.” 

Jamie’s mouth fell open. He was incredibly taken aback by this, having pegged her to be about his age if not younger, but quickly decided he could take it in stride. 

“‘Quite young?’” he chuckled, “ye’re practically a granny compared tae me, lass. I’m 29.” 

“29!” she exclaimed, as if she had just told her that he was the bloody queen rather than a decade younger than her, “but you’re so… why don’t you live with your parents?” 

Jamie nearly tripped over a stone in his path but managed to right himself before toppling over. Claire had stopped walking the moment “29” had left his mouth, and she was staring at him with a concerned gaze that uncomfortably reminded Jamie of how an adult might look at a lost child. 

But the pieces were beginning to fall into place in his brain, and he wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs as he gathered his thoughts. With a glance at Claire and then a tilt of his head, they resumed walking. 

“I sense that maybe there’s a wee difference between lifespans of humans and the fair folk…” he began uncertainly, “Humans only stay wi’ their parents until they are 18 or so. Besides, I lost my mam when I was young, and my da a few years back.” 

He wasn’t sure exactly what possessed him to share that last intimate detail with her, superfluous to the point as it was. He hardly ever talked about his parents’ deaths to people, and it disconcerted him a bit how easily it came tumbling from him now. Apparently a deep part of him wanted to share everything with her. 

“Ye said ye’re quite young…” he continued, and a horrifying thought suddenly struck him, “ _ you _ didna still live wi’ yer parents before ye came through the stones, did ye?” 

_ Oh Christ what if she was only a child by fae terms! She looked his age but… _

His head began to spin, but she thankfully answered before he could work himself up any further. 

“No. I suppose things are a little different for the fair folk. We are taken care of by our parents until around 30 years of age or so. But I’ve been on my own for far longer than that. I… I lost my parents as well. When I was very young. I can hardly remember them really…” 

She gave a little tilt of the head, trying to keep the mention of tragedy casual, but he could see the pain in her eyes that wouldn’t meet his. 

Jamie’s heart ached for her, tinged with the familiar longing for his own parents. It seemed they really were kindred spirits— him and Claire— two lost souls who’d somehow come to find each other. 

“I’m sorry, lass,” he said huskily, “so that’s what ye meant when ye’d said ye’d been takin’ care of yerself yer whole life? Did ye no’ have other family?” 

Claire shrugged her shoulders a little, as if her clothes were too tight, and shook her head, her curls billowing in the gentle breeze to hide half of her face. He knew she wasn’t hiding from him intentionally, but it still made his heart clench to see her discomfort. 

“Not really. But the fair folk are rather communal. We are often near each other, even if we don’t live as a family unit per say. Others made sure I was well, and I had friends and other fae around, but mostly I’ve been—” 

She left the word  _ “alone” _ unspoken, but the meaning was clear. The undeclared word seemed to linger in the air between them, weighty and heart-wrenching. 

At this new declaration, Jamie couldn’t help but reach out and take her hand. She wasn’t alone anymore after all. Maybe she felt that way, but Jamie would be damned if it were true.  _ He  _ wouldn’t leave her. Her wee hand slipped easily into his, and he allowed his thumb to drift over the peaks and valleys of her knuckles. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed.  _ What else could he say in the midst of such loss? _

“What about you?” she asked, her natural radiance suddenly coming through in her smile, dissipating the heavy topic’s dark cloud, “will you tell me more about your sister?” 

Jamie couldn’t help a sheepish smile. “Aye, Janet is her real name. After we lost our mam when I was around 8 or so, Jenny became sort of a mother tae me. She was always there when I needed her, and— weel…” he let out a bit of a laugh, thinking about the earlier blow up with Jenny, “she’s always there now, sometimes too much when she’s sticking her neb intae my business… but I’m glad she’s there. I love her verra much.” 

Claire gave him a sweet nod and squeezed his hand. “I can tell she’s important to you.” 

Apologies rose in Jamie’s throat along with the resurfaced guilt from earlier. He had told the one person who mattered most to him that Claire meant nothing, and both of them were aware of it. But as much as he was bursting to lay himself at her feet and explain his mistake all over again, he’d already been forgiven, so it was time for him to move past it. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Claire letting out an exclamation. They had just rounded the edge of the monro, revealing the expanse of rolling heather— its purple waves spread into a picturesque canvas across the landscape. 

“Bonny, is it no’?” he asked, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. 

“It’s beautiful,” she uttered in wonderment. 

Feeling like a protagonist in a romance novel, he held tightly to her hand and led her through the field. Her skirt billowed in the breeze behind her, and her face was lit up with a serene joy. Riotous curls swept all around her head, and Jamie was enthralled. He found himself walking almost completely backward so he could watch her face as she took in the beautiful sights. 

He could admit to himself that it was cheesy, but to him, Claire would always be the most beautiful view. 

_ If only he could tell her that… To bring them to a halt, gather her into his arms, and kiss her until she was breathless… _

He had to squeeze his eyes shut before the longing took him over. The words he always repeated to himself came to the forefront of his mind. 

_ You can be her friend, her anchor, but nothing more. She’s lost everything, ye canna take advantage of her. Pull yerself together.  _

And so he did. He wiped all thoughts of kissing her from the slate of his mind— imaging a whiteboard of the errant imaginings being erased— and grounded himself in the moment. 

“Have ye ever seen a place like this?” he asked. 

She shook her head, still smiling in delight. “We don’t usually wander out as far as the moors. Well, some do. Some have experienced a great deal. But I hadn’t ever left my forest before now.” 

He nodded, going silent as his imagination overwhelmed him with images of him taking Claire to the beaches of Greece. Her joy as she took in the crystal blue waters, her dropping to her knees to grab handfuls of sand, her body clad only in a bikini as she jumped into the waves...

A question suddenly struck him and pulled him rudely from his fantasy. 

“Do the fair folk read?” 

She looked at him, uncertain. “Read?” 

He thought back to their adventure at the bookstore. She hadn’t actually asked him about the books, but she hadn’t made any indication she knew what they were either. It had been an overwhelming day; he couldn’t blame her for not asking about every single thing when it was all unfamiliar. 

“Do you have language in a written form? With symbols?” he expanded. 

She gave a little shake of her head and looked curiously at him. “We communicate verbally, like we’re doing now. What is reading?” 

And thus, Jamie set into the best explanation he could manage. About communication, learning, writings surviving the years to give insights into ancient ways, the power of stories in human culture. 

“We tell many stories,” Claire told him during a break in his explanation, “all passed down from one generation to the next. Like I said at the gardens, language is everything to us.” 

He nodded thoughtfully. Jamie’s curiosity about the fair folk was well and truly peaked, and as they walked along, enjoying the serenity of the warm day and the feeling of earth under their feet, he launched into more questions. 

“This may be a difficult question tae answer, but… how are ye alive if ye dinna eat? I mean… humans get energy from things we eat, where do you get yers?” 

“Well… I suppose a simple way to explain it is we get energy from everything around us.” She made a wide, encompassing gesture to their surroundings. 

“Like from the sun? Like plants do?” Jamie’s brain was running away with thoughts of Claire going through the process of photosynthesis. 

“No, it’s… it’s hard to explain. It’s more like… I just tap into the energy of the earth. I don’t really know how else to say it.” Claire gave him a bit of a helpless smile, and Jamie returned one in dismissal of the topic. It didn’t matter to him so much  _ how  _ exactly it worked so long as it did. 

“Okay, one more question,” he asked, hoping he hadn’t already pushed her too far with his curiosity. 

But his fears were assuaged when she answered indulgently, “you can ask me as many as you want, Jamie.”

That got his head spinning. What he really wanted to know was about relationships between the fae.  _ Did they have marriage? _ He longed to ask her (and maybe get down on one knee depending on the answer), but he bit his tongue.  _ It wouldn’t do to be scaring the lass with a daft question when he couldn’t even keep his feelings in check. No, he’d save that one for another day.  _

“I appreciate it, lass, but jes’ one more for now. From the stories I’ve heard from my mam… and that many people believe in Scotland, ye’re supposed to leave offerings of milk and sweets— food— for the fair folk tae eat. But ye dinna eat, so…”

Claire let out a laugh then. Not one of mocking or disdain, but pure enjoyment. And it lit up Jamie’s soul to hear even though he had no idea why it was she was laughing. 

“You humans think you have us all figured out. That one, my lad, is one you all made up completely on your own. I’m sure half of the things you believe are mere superstition,” she answered with an entertained gleam in her eye. 

Jamie could have talked to her for hours, deciphering which of the scottish legends were true or man-made, unraveling the secrets that made up his mysterious faerie, but he noticed she was starting to droop a bit. Her pace had slowed, and despite the wide smile still gracing her face, Jamie thought it was time to turn around. 

“Come now, lass, let’s go home.” 

She gave a grateful nod, and with that, they turned back. On the way home, Jamie began to explain all about his job. About the publishing company— his whole livelihood based on stories. Claire seemed to lighten at that, and Jamie started to mentally catalogue which books he’d have to read to her first, imagining her delight as she was introduced to all different kinds of worlds and knowledge. 

The sun was just beginning to go down as the cottage came in sight. The clouds were lit in a warm golden light, and specks of it sparkled in Claire’s hair.  _ Rather like the color of the aura around her _ — he thought. He looked at her then, really looked, and saw the soft shimmering cloud, barely visible in the golden sunlight. They were no longer holding hands, but he thought if he took just one step closer, he could feel the warmth of it. Indulging himself, he did, and found it to be just like it always was. A sense of well-being, of serenity, of  _ Claire.  _

*

“Would ye like another shower, a nighean?” he asked as they stepped inside the house and he took the jacket from her. 

She looked quite excited by this idea. “Oh yes, please.” 

He inflated with the pride of pleasing her and had to hide his smile as he hung their jackets on the hook. 

“Well alright then. But only if I can take one after ye, I must smell worse than the underside of a stag.” 

Much to his surprise (and perhaps even horror), Claire suddenly was on top of him, her face pressing against his shoulder and hands casually rested on his sides, holding him still. There was the sound of a deep inhale, and then she withdrew her face with a smile. 

“I think you smell wonderful,” she said sweetly, without a hint of sarcasm in her tone or guileless eyes. 

Jamie laughed out loud, his chest heaving with the force of it. Claire laughed along with him, although he wasn’t entirely sure what she was laughing about. 

Overcome by his giddiness (the lass had just smelled his oxter and liked it for Christ’s sake!), he leaned in and caught her around the waist. Holding her body against him, he lowered his head and took a whiff of her neck. His nose brushed the skin there, and she began to squirm against him, the softness of her clouding his mind. 

“Ye smell like…” 

His words cut off as she struggled playfully, making him laugh. The squirming only egged him on, and he easily held her incapacitated as he sniffed again, this time on the other side of her neck. She pushed half-heartedly at his chest, but at the same time, she seemed to be leaning closer to his touch. 

He had been planning to tease her, to finish his sentence by listing whatever horrible smell he could think of and demanding she shower immediately, but he found that when he really thought about it, she smelled fresh as a summer rose. Like the heather of the fields and crispness of the breeze. 

_ Of course she did, the lass didna drink, she likely didna sweat either.  _

_ Just another enchanting thing about her— she would always smell intoxicating.  _

“Actually ye smell good,” he finished lamely.

His hands fell from her waist, releasing her, and she pushed away from him while continuing to laugh. 

“Well I’d like that shower either way,” she teased. 

As he headed toward the bathroom to turn it on for her, he began to berate himself over their little display. His eyes squeezed shut with the force of his embarrassment.

_ That was something a couple would do. Not friends. He’d been overcome by flirting in the moment, the nearness of her that seemed to make him lose his heid. He’d stepped over a line.  _

The feeling of her squirming in his arms, of holding her body against him, lingered in his mind long after he’d left Claire to her shower. He sat down at the kitchen table and buried his head in his hands. 

_ He had to get himself together.  _

*

While Claire showered, Jamie needed to take care of real life. Food was first-and-foremost, and then he had to set about the task of taking more time off work. There was no way he could leave her. That was the same thing he’d told himself the last few days, and Jamie briefly wondered if he  _ ever  _ would be able to. It certainly wasn’t getting any easier. 

As he pulled out his phone to shoot Ian a clipped and matter-of-fact text about yet another absence, Adso gave him a green stare of disapproval from his perch on the coffee table. 

“What are ye judgin’ me for?” he asked the cat indignantly. 

Adso simply gazed at him some more, even and unwavering in his haughty objection. 

Jamie sighed heavily, “I guess ye’re right,” he told the cat, “I’ll call him. Now stop eyin’ me like that.” 

Whipping out his phone, he reluctantly initiated the call. 

“Hi, Jamie,” Ian answered, seeming rather muted compared to his usual exuberant greetings. 

“Hello, a charaid,” Jamie said, and then there was a long silence. Guilt was seeping into his brain at the thought of possibility driving his family away.  _ The cat really had convicted him…  _

“Listen, I am—” “Jamie, I wanted tae—” they both started at the same time. 

“I’ll go,” Ian volunteered, “I wanted tae tell ye that I’m sorry we ambushed ye this mornin’. Ye’re right. Ye’ve worked hard wi’ out a single day off in years, ye deserve a vacation if that’s what ye’re needin’.” 

“Thank you, Ian. I’m sorry, too. I shouldna have blown up at ye and ignored yer calls. I’ve jes’ been… sortin’ through some things.” 

“I understand that,” Ian chuckled. 

“Listen, were ye serious? About me takin’ as many days as I need?” 

“Of course.” 

“Then ye willna bite my heid off when I ask ye for the rest of the week?” 

“Ye’re a canny one makin’ me say it before ye drop that bomb on me… Of course, Jamie. Take the time ye need. Ye’d tell me if anythin’s wrong, wouldn’t ye? Ye ken ye can talk tae me about anythin’?” 

Jamie’s heart clenched. “Of course, Ian. Thank you. Listen, I hafta go, but I’ll see ye soon, aye?” 

“Aye. And Jamie… maybe gi’ yer sister a call? I ken she wants tae apologize.” 

“Alright, Ian,” he answered rather noncommittally, still stinging from their fight, “Bye, a charaid.”

With Ian’s quick goodbye, Jamie hung up and sat back heavily in his chair, sighing at Adso— who was looking smugly satisfied over making Jamie do the right thing. There was barely a moment of silence between them before he thought about the fact that Claire had been in the shower an awfully long time. 

“Wee besom’ll use up all my hot water,” he grumbled at Adso on his way toward the bathroom to check on her. 

Not that he really minded in the slightest. Claire could use up all the hot water and leave him taking cold showers for the rest of his days and he would just thank God that it meant she was with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled "Oh look, it's a second date, but we're still too deep in denial to realize." Alternatively-alternatively titled "Claire and Jamie smell each other and like it." Hehehe couldn't resist that season 5 scene making its way in here for a bit of far-too-intimate behavior.
> 
> I can't promise when the next chapter will be polished & posted, but hopefully soon. I would appreciate any prayers and good-vibes you'd send my way as I'm dealing with a lot. Thanks so much for reading, lovelies!!


	13. A Good Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire learns one of Jamie's secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We take another foray into Claire’s brain!! The last Claire POV chapter was Chapter 7 (if you want a refresher on where she's at, maybe take a glance back there). I'll just remind you that it ended with "In that moment, she knew she loved him." :))

Claire was lost in the heavenly feeling of water rushing over her skin— hot and soothing to her muscles, easing all the tension out of her. It wasn’t often that she felt truly warm these days. The few occasions included being wrapped in the soft (what was it called… blankit?) and sitting in front of the “space heater.” Or being wrapped in Jamie’s arms... 

As much as she loved all the human conveniences for warmth, nothing compared to the feeling of Jamie’s ever-present heat seeping into her as he clasped her securely to his body. Just the thought of his arms— unreasonably big but still soft, making them the perfect place on which to rest her head— twisted her belly and made her flush a bit. 

She tangled her fingers through her curls, letting the water flow down to her scalp. Her head fell forward in pleasure and a sigh escaped her lips.

But her luxuriating was interrupted by a woody bang from outside and Jamie’s voice calling, “are ye doin’ alright, lass?” 

She startled a little and then nodded before remembering that of course he couldn’t see that. 

“Better than alright. I’ll be out in a second,” she replied cheerily. 

Feeling a sudden haste (that may or may not have had anything to do with her human), she stepped out of the shower and grabbed the soft (also a blankit?-)  _ thing...  _ and used it to dry herself off. She wrapped it around her middle and then made to open the door. 

A bit of disappointment tugged at her when she saw that Jamie was nowhere in sight. Figuring he was taking care of whatever it was that he needed to, she padded down to her room to change. 

The collection of dresses they had gotten were delightful. She hadn’t had a chance to put them all on yet (especially after their hasty departure from Mrs. Fitz’ place), but just looking at them made her feel excited. Her favorite was by far the white one— it was most reminiscent of what the fair folk of the seelie court wore— but seeing the darker colors piqued her interest. She chose a dark blue one for now and quickly pulled it over her head. Her curls were still drying, but she didn’t think it’d be a problem. Peeking behind her to make sure her wings were covered (though it probably didn’t matter if Jamie was the only one seeing her), she decided it would do. 

As she wandered back into the hallway, meaning to go down and maybe find Adso, she suddenly caught sight of Jamie and her jaw dropped. 

He must have just finished with the shower because he was bare save the blankit wrapped around his hips and there were drops of water smattered over his chest and shoulders. There was no indication that he’d seen her, busy as he was doing… whatever it was that he was doing— but she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. When she had told him he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, she hadn’t been exaggerating. Looking at his smooth, tanned skin— dotted with occasional freckles that gave Claire the sudden urge to run to him and kiss every last one— she felt a heat rise in her cheeks. If only she could run her hands along every inch, to feel how smooth and soft it was under her fingertips...

But then he turned a little, getting ready to head toward his room, and she caught sight of his back. 

All the air was punched out of her. 

The skin of his back was marred terribly, the flesh criss-crossed by silvery-white lines that stretched all across it, healed laboriously from being brutally torn some time ago. Some indents were deeper than others, making divots in the skin, but others were barely visible other than faint lines. The scars made a terrible spider’s web across what should have been a perfect canvas. 

“ _ Jamie _ .” 

It was completely inadvertent as she suddenly found herself rushing toward him and a sigh of his name tumbling from her lips. 

He turned and saw her, his eyes widening, and then he hastily angled himself to make sure she couldn’t see his back. His cheeks flamed red— not with the sweet color of embarrassment, but rather the hue of shame that sent Claire’s insides twisting all the more.

“I didna ken ye were there,” he forced out. 

Claire couldn’t be bothered with words at the moment. She reached out for him, feeling her heart break at the expression on his face and the thought of his old wounds. First, she gently cupped his face, feeling the stubble rough against her palm. 

“Let me see?” she entreated in a whisper. 

He looked reluctant for a second, but then nodded against her hand. 

With as much gentleness as she could possibly convey, Claire took him by the shoulders and turned him. He went willingly, and then his entire back was on display for her. All the trauma. The evidence of raw pain now healed but forever etched into his skin. 

As if drawn by a magnet, her hand raised and just barely brushed over the marred skin. He tensed at first, which almost made her draw back. But in the next second, he was relaxing to her touch. Her fingertips brushed across shoulder blades and down the plane of his back, hardly any contact. She could feel— not just sense, but actually  _ feel _ in her body— the echoes of his pain. 

“What happened?” she whispered. 

“Dinna fash, it was a long time ago—” he started, but she wouldn’t let him get away with dismissing this as if it didn’t matter. 

“Tell me,” she pleaded. 

She placed her whole hand over his back and pressed gently in reassurance that she was here. He wasn’t alone. 

“It was a car accident,” he began, a slight tremor in his voice, “ye ken, what we rode in the other day? Sometimes they crash. I dinna mean tae scare ye, lass—“ Claire almost laughed aloud at this. Even in re-living his trauma, he still was so concerned about her. “—but sometimes things happen. Infrequently, mind ye. They’re verra safe. But this time it wasna. Another car hit mine. I was jes’ a foolish lad of 19, and I wasna strapped in properly. I flew through the front window and went skidding on my back across the ground wi’ all the shards of glass and pavement tearing up my back.” 

Claire wasn’t sure what half of those words meant, but she could imagine well enough. She felt sick to her stomach with how well she did understand. It took great willpower to keep her hand steady where it lay on his back. 

“I lay in agony for weeks. It took me so long to recover that sometimes I thought I couldna bear to live.” 

Tears were beading at her eyes and she had to swallow the lump in her throat. The force of the pain she felt for his suffering hit her like a wave. As much as she didn’t want to add to Jamie’s discomfort, she found she couldn’t stop the tears from falling. 

“I wish I had been there,” she choked as she resumed gently tracing over his scars, “I wish desperately I could have healed you. Eased your suffering. I wish—” the tremor in her voice halted all words. 

Her vision was so blurred that all she saw was a flash of skin as Jamie turned toward her so he was facing her again. 

“Ye’ve the kindest heart, mo nighean donn,” he said quietly. 

She felt his hands gently cupping her face, and his thumbs swiped over her falling tears. She cursed herself for making  _ him  _ comfort  _ her  _ in a moment like this, but the onslaught of emotion radiating from him had overtaken her. But if she was being honest with herself, it was far more than her sensing his suffering and emotions. It went beyond empathy— the thought of him in agony hurt  _ her  _ directly because of the force of her love for him. 

Looking up at his face through the gathered tears in her eyes, she said, “I’m sorry you went through that, Jamie.” 

“It only made me who I am today,” he answered.

There was such strength in his voice. A man wise beyond his years. 

There was a strength in his heart as well— one that soothed the surge of emotions and brought calm to Claire’s reeling mind. 

“Are you ashamed of them?” she suddenly burst out, “You turned away from me when I saw...” 

“I dinna-” he swallowed, “I dinna show them to anyone. I have no use for pity. I hate it when people look at me differently when they find out. It’s jes’ no’ somethin’ I talk about anymore.” 

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” she breathed, understanding the gravity of his trust, “I could never pity you, and you should never feel ashamed. They’re a part of you, Jamie. And everything about you is perfect.” 

The air had never returned to her lungs during this whole conversation. Her insides were still knotted up with the strength of her emotion for him, making it hard to force words out. But she needed him to know. She loved every part of him. And she wanted his heart— complete with all the wounds and scars. 

“Ye have a good touch,” he commented softly as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, “I’ve never let anyone touch the scars before, save the doctors and nurses or my family. But— I didna mind when you did...” 

The force of the last statement made it quite clear that he more than didn’t mind, he’d liked it, and Claire made a note to touch him as often as she could until he no longer thought of the scars as something ugly. 

“I like when you touch me too,” she suddenly found herself saying. She didn’t remember the words leaving her mouth, let alone deciding to say them, but she heard the echo of them in the air and saw quite clearly his reaction. 

Jamie’s whole body seemed to tense. He withdrew from her as if he suddenly couldn’t be near her, and her hand on him fell away to hang limply at her side. His downward glance as he avoided her eyes made her wonder if it had been wrong to say. The distance between them was like a blow, and the absence of his touch ached inside her. Perhaps she’d crossed a line with him? But for the life of her, she didn’t know what she’d done that was wrong. His energy had changed in an instant— one second they were sharing a connection, and the next, he was pulling away from her. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll— leave you to get dressed,” she stuttered out a bit helplessly. 

“Aye,” came his awkward response. 

When she gave him one last look before departing, she found his ears were red and he couldn’t seem to meet her eye. 

She went downstairs with a stone in the pit of her stomach, hoping desperately that she hadn’t inadvertently created a distance between them. 

***

The rest of the night passed with a soothing easiness. Jamie came down from his shower seeming quite his usual self again. She’d watched him make food while trying not to get entranced by the shapes of his muscles shifting underneath his shirt. They sat and talked for a while as he ate— him telling stories of his childhood and family. Jamie was quite the storyteller, and Claire found herself getting lost in his enthusiasm. His face lit up as he told her animatedly about his parents meeting, about his awkward years as a boy, and about an incident involving him, Ian, and an owl (at which she couldn’t stop laughing until her sides ached). Claire thought she would never tire of listening to him talk about his passions. She could tell he loved fiercely and felt things deeply, and that brought such a well of affection bubbling up in her chest that she had to get up and give him a hug. 

They sat on the odd, tall stumps, so she slipped off a little clumsily before bridging the distance between them, Jamie’s eyes wide as he watched her while he attempted to finish speaking. 

He chuckled as she looped her arms around his neck and squeezed— right at the end of his story. 

“What was that for, lass?” he asked, adorably breathless. 

His big hands came up to rest on her back, smoothing down it in response. 

She ran her fingers through his curls, enjoying their softness, and then answered without letting go, “you’re just so passionate, Jamie.” 

He had no response for her, but she didn’t mind. With one last squeeze to the nape of his neck, she let him go. But before she withdrew completely, she ran a tender hand along the length of his back. A silent reassurance of her acceptance of the scars— just as she promised herself she would at every opportunity. 

It was late. When she drew back from him, her gaze caught sight of the darkness outside, and she had to stifle a yawn. Seeing the distant stars (the familiar gleam making her bones ache with a sudden homesickness), she wandered closer to the clear square that let them view outside. 

“Tired, lass?” Jamie asked, craning his head to look at her from his spot. 

She nodded; there was no point in insisting otherwise (Jamie always could read her). As much as she would have loved to stay up to listen to more of his stories and look out at the stars, she was more than ready to sleep. 

“Will you lay down with me?” Claire asked, feeling suddenly shy. She didn’t turn around to look at him when she asked. 

There was absolutely no desire within her to spend any time away from him. She longed for the warmth and comfort of his arms— the long planes of his body against her. It was only with that safety and security that she found real rest. 

“Aye, give me jes’ a moment, lass.” 

Relief flooded her at his acceptance. 

Jamie rose, gathering his things, and she hovered behind him as he puttered around in the kitchen. The moment his hands were free and he started to turn toward her, she slipped her hand into his. He rewarded her with a soft smile that made her feel warm inside, and then took her up with him. 

Before long, she was under the blankits and waiting for Jamie to join her. She tossed and turned several times, her mind sorting through all the things that had happened that day. The argument, Jamie’s injury, learning about his past… there was so much to digest. In the unnatural quiet, her mind was racing with the assaults of too many things she didn’t wish to think about. It sometimes felt to her that life was moving so unbelievably fast. She wished it would slow down and give her a moment to breathe. 

That breath came when Jamie slid in beside her. Instead of laying down flat like he usually did (giving her the perfect opportunity to rest her head on his chest) Jamie fitted himself along the length of her back and pulled her close to him. The moment his body came in contact with hers, peace descended on her. A feeling took hold of her, a sensation that was indescribable and something she had never experienced before Jamie. 

“Is this alright?” Jamie asked with the sweetest sincerity that made her love him all the more. 

“Perfect,” she breathed, shifting back so she was fully encapsulated in his astonishing warmth. 

She drifted to sleep under the solid anchor of Jamie’s arms and the security of his presence. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you're wondering about the progress of this story...  
> There are 3 more chapters left in the first arc, ahh!! Things are about to ramp uppp, stick with me. But don't worry, their story is far from over!   
> I prewrote all 16 chapters of the first arc before I began posting, but the second arc currently exists only in my brain. I'm trying to get over some major writer's block + real life, but if you guys are interested, I hope to get working on arc II soon!
> 
> Thanks so much for your support of the story, love to you all!!


	14. Unexpected Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected Visitors disrupt the Fraser household.

The next morning, Claire’s perfect tranquility was interrupted by a terrifying _ brring-brong.  _

She jerked wildly around from her place on the “couch”, her heart racing in her chest, before she remembered the last time she’d heard that sound and Jamie had explained that it simply indicated there was someone outside. With cautious steps, she made her way toward the door and pressed her ear against it, listening. No sound of anything threatening at least. But also no sign of Jamie— who was upstairs in the shower.

Claire remembered the other day when there had been a man with something to give Jamie. It was probably that again, and if it was something important, she didn’t want him to miss it. 

Fumbling the odd shaped thing that opened the door, she tugged at it, but it wouldn’t budge. Then she spotted the problem and freed the sliding bit. After struggling with the oddities humans had for securing their place, Claire finally managed to free the door and it swung open. 

She was greeted by blue eyes— Jamie’s eyes— staring at her in astonishment.  _ His sister. _ Claire had only gotten a glimpse of her the other day but there was no mistaking the fierce dark-haired woman that shared many features with her Jamie. 

“Who are you, then?” Jenny demanded. 

Claire was momentarily struck dumb. Thoughts of the last conversation— or rather,  _ confrontation— _ that Jenny had with Jamie whirled in her head and made her feel dizzy. He hadn’t wanted his sister to know about her. But obviously that stone had been turned over, because here she stood in front of the woman, mute and motionless. She wished she could just disappear.

_ This whole being-seen-by-humans thing had its drawbacks.  _

“Cat got yer tongue? Answer me! Who are ye, and what are ye doin’ answerin’ my brother’s door?” 

The expression Jenny was wearing could safely be classified as accusatory. Her eyes were narrowed, hands rested on her hips. Claire had to take a gulp of air. 

“Cat…?” Claire echoed. She glanced behind her to where Adso the cat was basking in the morning light— who very clearly did not have her tongue. Bewildered, she placed a hand to her mouth and shook her head, brows furrowed. 

She knew Jenny had said more after that strange human expression, but Claire was buzzing with anxiety so strongly that she couldn’t quite seem to remember. 

“Who are ye?” Jenny demanded, more slowly this time, clearly agitated by Claire’s befuddlement. 

A swallow. “Claire,” she managed, but she was unequal to the task of providing her with any more information.

_ Where was Jamie? _

All of a sudden, Jenny shouldered her way past Claire and inside unceremoniously. It was only then that Claire realized a man was standing behind her. Ian, she surmised, based on what Jamie had told her after the last visit. He walked closer a few steps and held out his hand, saying in a pleasant tone, “I’m Ian. Nice tae meet ya.” 

Claire had no idea what to do with the proffered hand. She wasn’t inclined to touch strange humans and took a hesitant step back with her gaze fixed on it. She glanced back up at Ian and helplessly offered, “I’m Claire.” 

He gave her an odd look and then slowly lowered the hand. 

“Nice tae meet ye, Claire. Ye’ll have tae excuse my wife, she doesna seem to have any manners when it comes tae her brother.” 

Claire gave a shaky nod, unsure how exactly to proceed, and then simply stepped aside to allow Ian past her. 

Jenny was waiting for them, hands on her hips. 

“So I suppose ye’re the trollop then? The one from the fittin’ room? Ye’re the reason he’s been missin’ all this work?” 

Claire shot a glance over her shoulder, hoping beyond hope that Jamie would choose this moment to appear. But no one came to her aid, and Jenny was inclined to continue. 

“Well…” Claire wasn’t sure what  _ trollop  _ was, but she understood the last part well enough, “I suppose. But-” 

“-I kent my brother was a fool, but to bring his little play thing into his home…” 

“Dinna speak of her that way,” came a low, menacing voice. 

Claire felt a wash of relief as Jamie appeared across the room behind his sister, already glaring daggers and squaring up for a fight. 

“Jamie!” Jenny exclaimed, whirling around to face him, “What are ye thinkin’? Do ye even ken this lass?” 

Jenny seemed to grow red, and— sensing the burgeoning conflict— Claire needed a retreat. She inched her way across the room warily, slipping around Jenny, and then pressed herself to Jamie’s side. He was also thrumming with tension, his gaze never leaving his sister and his full height utilized, but as Claire slipped her hand into his, he seemed to calm a bit. The red energy around him began to ease in the slightest. 

“Aye, I ken Claire. And if ye didna come in here rarin’ for a fight, maybe ye could get tae know her too,” he said evenly. 

Claire wasn’t sure she was quite inclined to get to know this aggressive woman. Jenny was still bristling, occasionally shooting her a dark-eyed glance. Still, anything that was important to Jamie was important to Claire, and he’d told her how much he loved his sister and her family. She resolved to give this woman a chance, but she still wouldn’t make a move away from Jamie. His hand was warm and solid around hers, and it calmed her spirit. 

“Aye,” Jenny acquiesced after a tense silence, throwing her hands up, “explain yerself then.” 

No one made any move for a long second. 

“What would ye like to ken?” Jamie asked, and Claire could tell he was trying to keep his voice even and light despite the obvious frustration humming through him. 

“What is she to you?” Jenny demanded. 

Jamie floundered at this. His face went red, and he glanced toward Claire, back at Jenny, then to the ground. “She’s…” he started as he looked toward Claire again, but he obviously wasn’t sure how exactly to explain the relationship. 

“He’s mine,” Claire stated simply to save him the trouble. 

_ Because how else could it be explained better than that?  _

Jamie’s face went impossibly redder, and his sister’s mouth fell open. Jenny glanced toward Ian, and Claire felt like she was caught in the middle of a spider’s web of gazes.  _ What was with these people and their non-verbal communication? Just say something already!  _

“Well then, I’d better sit down,” Jenny said begrudgingly. 

She promptly sat down on the couch, and Ian followed, sitting down next to her. Jamie, in turn, walked over to the chair across from them. Claire trailed after him before setting herself straight down on his lap. 

Jamie jerked in surprise as she situated herself as always, twining her arms around his neck and curling up. She saw as his eyes went wide and the tips of his ears (having only just now faded from her last words) flared deep red again. She liked his blush ever-so much but wasn’t sure exactly why he was reacting this way. She’d sat with him plenty of times like this. 

“Maybe find yer own chair for now, lass?” Jamie whispered into her ear. 

She felt confusion and something like disappointment rise up in her. Jamie was hers, and she didn’t understand why he was embarrassed. But she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, so she quickly slipped off his lap. Grabbing a nearby chair, she couldn’t resist the urge to scoot it closer to Jamie’s. She needed him within arm’s reach. Finally, all was settled, and the only thing left was to begin the conversation.

The air felt heavy around them, and Claire’s apprehension grew. There was a pressure on her shoulders— she realized. His family’s opinion meant everything to Jamie, and Claire was suddenly overwhelmed by the prospect that Jenny’s disapproval could drive them apart. 

Needing the reassurance of his touch, she reached out and took ahold of Jamie’s hand. 

***

When Jamie had come down the stairs to find Jenny facing off with Claire (well, facing off wasna exactly the right term, because his puir faerie was practically trembling in the face of Jenny’s confrontation) and heard the things his sister was saying about her, irritation and something even deeper flared within him, and he quickly jumped to Claire’s defense. 

But the lass certainly hadn’t made things easy. First she’d declared him to be “hers” to Jenny, proudly and possessively, and then she’d sat straight down on his lap— making his sister’s eyes bulge and mouth gape. Jamie loved Claire dearly but needed to keep the situation in hand, so he’d quickly shifted her off of him with only a slight twinge of regret. 

Now, he sat with her hand in hand, ready for Jenny to launch in, as clearly his sister was ready to do. As much as he knew that holding Claire’s hand in front of Jenny would only increase his sister’s ire, he couldn’t dream of withholding that comfort from the faerie. Jenny had been studying their clasped hands for a long second, but then let out a sigh and turned to Claire. 

“How do you two know each other?” she asked, the veil of politeness over her voice quite obviously a front. 

Claire looked toward Jamie, looking unsure about what he would want her to say, and he hastily jumped in. 

“I met Claire at university in Paris. We kept in touch, and she decided tae come for a visit. She got in on Saturday.” 

Jenny and Ian nodded at this, and Jamie felt a sense of relief. 

“And since I’m certain ye’ll ask… the airline lost all her luggage, which is why we were at Mrs. Fitz’s. And no, we werena  _ doin _ ’ anything, I was jes’ helping her do up a zipper.” 

Jenny gave an eyeroll at this, but didn’t otherwise comment. 

“And how is it that you have come to be spending the weekend in sin?” she accused bluntly. 

“We’re no’ livin’ in sin, Janet,” Jamie sighed. His exasperation had almost exceeded tolerant levels. 

“What about what ye said last time?” 

“Last time I let ye believe that simply to make ye shut yer gab. I didna say I was sleepin’ wi’ her, because I am verra much no’. Claire is only stayin’ wi’ me.” Jamie was about a second and a half from kicking Jenny and Ian off of his property and not speaking to his loud-mouth, rude, intolerable sister for a good couple years until she’d learned some manners. 

While all these thoughts were rolling around in Jamie’s head, Jenny was looking pointedly at their clasped hands, obviously not believing that they weren’t sleeping together. 

“Well,” Ian jumped into the conversation before Jenny could make another ill-advised comment, “Claire. What is it ye do for a livin’ then?” he asked politely. 

Claire’s eyes widened like a cornered fawn, the poor lass. She’d never heard that phrase before, let alone was she prepared to come up with an answer of a suitable profession. Jamie quickly jumped to her rescue. 

“She’s a botanist,” he said as he gave her hand a squeeze. He could feel the flutter of her rapid heartbeat in her wrist and hoped the whole ordeal wasn’t too much for her. Stretching his thumb, he ran the tip gently over her pulse point in reassurance. 

“Still tongue-tied, lassie?” Jenny asked with a hint of a sneer. 

“Lay off, Janet,” he growled. 

His sister raised her hands in exasperation. “The lass has said barely a word since we’ve arrived.” As if that explained why she was so hostile toward her. 

“If ye continue to speak so disrespectfully I willna allow ye to stay in my home another minute,” Jamie said in a firm, severe voice. 

“It’s alright, Jamie,” Claire broke in, giving his hand a squeeze. She turned toward Jenny and gave her one of her mega-watt smiles that made Jamie’s knees weak every time. Astonishingly, it did not have the same effect on Jenny. His sister just sat there, cold as ice, gaze locked on Claire’s, without giving a single inch. “I know I’ve been quiet. I’m just nervous about making a good impression on Jamie’s family. I know how much you mean to him.” 

Jamie wanted to throw his arms around his clever lass. Never once had she been in a situation like this, and yet she was so quick on her feet to say the right thing in a tense situation. 

Ian smiled at this, looking back and forth between him and Claire, obviously seeing the palpable connection between them. 

Jenny, on the other hand, was not impressed. 

“Ye shouldna worry about makin’ an impression, lass. Ye willna be around long,” she said dismissively, even going as far as to give a derogatory wave of the hand. 

Jamie’s mouth fell open in incredulity. Jenny had been hostile before, downright rude, but this was on another level of animosity. He let go of Claire’s hand and stood with surprising force, scooting his chair back a couple centimeters with a loud skidding sound. 

“This is you comin’ over tae  _ apologize _ , Janet?” he roared, “No! I willna have it. Ye’ve said more than enough. Get out. Ye may return  _ when I invite ye _ and no sooner, and that will only be when ye’ve managed to pull yerself together and apologize tae Claire.” 

Jenny was standing now too. Instead of the deep red of shame that she should have been wearing, though, Jenny was just as riled up as he was. 

Things were escalating far out of hand. 

“Ye bring this lass intae yer life and disappear wi’ out a word, and ye jes’ expect me tae take it as if it’s the most normal thing?” 

“Yes!” he exclaimed in exasperation, “that’s exactly what I expect ye tae do! I’m 29, Jenny, and ye’re actin’ like I’m some 12 year old who brought a girl home askin’ if she could spend the night. I make my own decisions!” 

Jenny’s shoulders seemed to slump. Not in defeat, but in acceptance of the fact that Jamie would be doing whatever he wanted and she didn’t have the power to stop him. 

And she said as much. 

“Fine. Ruin yer life wi’ this trollop. I’ll see myself out. And dinna worry about me comin’ back uninvited, I’ll no’ be gracin’ yer stoop for a long while, that’s for certain.” 

Poor Ian had been sitting motionless the whole time, gaping up at his wife in horror. He occasionally shot glances toward Jamie and behind him to Claire, but mostly Ian’s brain was churning with the conflict he was being dragged along with, forced to be on Jenny’s side. As the brazen besom turned toward the door, Ian rose from the couch. He looked helplessly at Jamie, his brown eyes wide with apology, and then followed after his wife. Jamie didn’t even make to shut the door, simply listened for it to bang close behind them. 

The second they were gone, he turned to Claire, ready to face a teary-eyed faerie horrified by the vile that had just spewed from his sister, ready to offer comfort and apologies, but— to his surprise— he was met with completely calm honey eyes. 

“Are you alright, Jamie?” she asked before he could. She reached out to run a soothing hand up his bicep. 

“Am I alright? Christ! Are  _ you  _ alright? I’m sae sorry ye hadta endure that.” 

“It’s not your fault, Jamie. She was being unfair to you,” she said softly. 

Jamie shook his head back and forth, “she was bein’ unfair tae  _ you! _ Listen to me, mo nighean donn. I’m sure she didna mean it. She’s angry and hurt because she thinks I’m keepin’ secrets, and she’s protective and brazen and rude. But I ken one day she’ll come around.” 

Claire looked a little heartbroken then. “I’m not sure…”

Taking a step closer, he took her gently by the shoulders, his hands dwarfing the dainty curves of them. His voice lowered to a tone of incredibly gentleness, “are ye really alright, Sassenach?” 

Her eyes lowered. “She just.. scared me,” she admitted with a shrug. 

Jamie’s wame clenched. Jenny was making his worst fears come to fruition. He hated the thought that Claire felt she didn’t belong in this strange world, especially in his life (where he wanted her to stay forever), and here his sister was saying those things to her face. The puir lass was completely cut off from her home, and now even his own family was trying to drive her away from the one shred of security she had. 

He could only imagine the homesickness she must have been feeling at that moment. The longing for the acceptance of her people— her family. 

Unlike  _ his _ , who was making her hate the human world. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, “nothin’ she said was true. And I’m verra glad ye’re in my life, no matter what my pig-heided sister says.” 

Claire was staring at him deeply, emotion reflected in her eyes. A mutual understanding passed between them, greater than any words. 

Then, abruptly breaking the surreal moment, Claire asked, “what’s  _ ‘pig-heided?” _ in a terrible mimicry of his accent. 

Jamie burst out laughing, doubling over in half-surprise and half-mirth. A stitch quickly formed in his side as his air ran out. Tears were pricking at the corners of his eyes as he laughed, a release of all the pent up emotion. 

“Have— do ye ken what a pig is, then?” he asked breathlessly, still heaving with laughter. 

To his delight and relief, Claire was laughing softly along with him (or maybe at him) and didn’t take offense to his hilarity. 

With a smile, she shook her head, answering helplessly, “no...” She let out a chuckle. 

“It’s a fat animal that spends its days rollin’ in mud. I’ll show ye one sometime,” he explained, his hands still rested on his knees in his doubled over position. 

Claire nodded in acceptance of his answer and reached out for him. Her wee hands slid down his forearms, raising goosebumps in their wake, until she grasped his hands and pulled him upright. 

He wasn’t quite expecting this, and the force of her tug sent him up and stumbling into her. 

Their bodies collided, and in an effort to keep her from going over, his hands grabbed her around the waist. He stomped his free foot down to regain balance and pulled her flush against him. He must have overcompensated, though, because they both went stumbling a step in the opposite direction this time, their bodies pressed completely together. 

They ended this odd dance with a fit of giggles, clinging tightly to one another as they finally regained balance. 

“Sorry,” she laughed. 

“No, I am,” Jamie chuckled, “but I think we needed a good laugh.” 

“We did,” Claire agreed, more softly this time. They were settling now, Claire looking up with him with big, soft eyes, and the mood shifted starkly from hilarity to something… intimate. One of her hands was pressed to his chest, the other holding on to his tricep, and he could feel nearly every inch of her against him. 

The silence spoke louder than anything, and he couldn't seem to the break eye contact that was quickly becoming dangerous. Every bone in his body screamed at him to kiss her. 

Letting go of her abruptly and taking a step back, he plunged them both back into reality. 

“Come now, lass,” he said hollowly, “I’m hungry. Care tae help me prepare some food?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm truly sorry for vilifying Jenny— it had to happen (for reasons).   
> Also I'm cautiously optimistic that I'll be able to do a mid-week update this week, so keep an eye out! Only two more chapters to go in arc I-- ahh!! Sending love to all you wonderful people <3<3


	15. The Woman of Balnain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie finally sits down with a certain book.

They spent the afternoon in lazy bliss. Together, they’d gone into the kitchen where Jamie had shown her how to whip up a burrito. Although most of it clearly went over her head, she had such a good time that she asked to make something else directly after he finished eating. 

After a brief explanation on how humans get full after eating, he gave in and offered to show her how to make cookies. 

Jamie felt distantly like his life had turned into a romcom as they baked cookies together. When Claire bumped him teasingly on the side, he grabbed a handful of flour and chucked it straight at Claire. Her mouth fell open in mock dismay before an impish gleam shone in her eye. Jamie learned that afternoon the true reason the word “impish” had originated to describe the fair folk. 

Claire was mischievous and exuberant in her retaliations. Handful after handful of baking supplies had been lobbed in his direction, shoved down his clothing, mussed into his hair, and even discreetly snuck into his pockets when he was later occupied with sticking the baking sheets of cookies in the oven. Long after their initial food fight had ended, Claire continued their little game. 

Later that afternoon while they sat together on the couch (the faerie’s legs draped over his, Jamie’s hands shoved under his own legs in order to keep from caressing her soft skin that was  _ right there _ ), Claire had produced a handful of oats from nowhere and shoved them down his collar. He’d flung her legs off, grabbed her waist, and threw her over his shoulder without a second thought as she squealed and thrashed. Stalking to the kitchen like a caveman with his prize draped over him, he unceremoniously plopped her down and then dumped an entire bowl of excess flour over her head. 

“I give up,” she screeched, smacking blindly at his chest with her flour-caked face still screwed up, puffs of powder exploding from her lips. 

“Promise? No more surprise attacks when I let down my guard?” he asked guardedly, trying to keep his grin out of his voice. 

“You have my word,” she promised. She gave him a grave, floury nod. 

Feeling quite magnanimous now that he’d won, Jamie grabbed a dishtowel, wet it, and then approached Claire. 

He cupped the back of her head, feeling her curls tangling between his fingers, and gently wiped the flour from her face. Once her eyelids had been cleaned, she opened them and stared up at him with a soft look. His bones felt like they had been turned to water to be receiving such a look, and he struggled to focus on the task at hand as he tenderly dabbed at the spots of flour still left on her face. She stayed quiet, just looking at him and allowing him to clean up the mess he’d made. 

_ How he loved her.  _

When the moment finally broke, their gazes tearing apart, Jamie inspected her hair. 

“No way I’m gettin’ this out of these curls. Do ye want a shower, a nighean?” 

“I would never say no to a shower,” she beamed. 

So, he’d graciously turned it on for her and then explained that he was going to get some work done. Leaving her to it knowing full well that she’d be in there for a long time, he headed for his office. 

But it wasn’t work he had in mind. 

There was another matter tickling at his brain. One he’d been itching at for far too long. He’d barely had time to breathe, let alone sit down and address it, until just this minute. 

He needed to read the book that the eccentric bookstore owner had shoved into his hands.

Unsure how to explain the strange interaction to Claire and disinclined to possibly worry her over nothing, Jamie still hadn’t mentioned anything about it. He’d been waiting to read it until he had a moment alone. 

Settling into his office chair, Jamie stared down at the cover of the mysterious book. He was motionless for a few seconds, feeling a strange uneasiness. 

The title was  _ The Woman of Balnain. _ It was short, perhaps a novella, and the description on the back said that it was about a time-traveling lass.  _ Why would the mysterious Geillis give this to him?  _

He was just about to start into reading, but as he opened the book, several sheets of paper suddenly fluttered out and onto his lap. Warily, he picked them up, turning them over to see what appeared to be hastily scrawled notes. 

The words at the top made him draw a sharp breath. 

“The Standing Stones of Craigh na Dun.”

The following notes seemed like a jumble to Jamie, the words swimming together in his mind in his haste to take them all in. He began to read so fast that several times he had to pause and reread. Geillis— at least he assumed that she was the author of these notes— wrote about planes of reality, magnetic fields, magical properties of the standing stones...

And below that was another section that was entitled “traveling.” 

Gemstones. One could travel from this plane to another— through the stones— by use of gemstones. According to this, only some people (or fae, he supposed) could travel. But those who could had discovered that gemstones ensured their safety. 

His hand was shaking so hard that he dropped the papers entirely. He brought his trembling hands up to bury his face into them. The gravity of the situation sat heavy on his shoulders as the realization descended. 

_ If this was true, he’d just been handed the way to get Claire back home.  _

*

What followed was perhaps an hour of frantic, mind-bending sorting of thoughts. He read and re-read over and over, trying to ensure that he truly had understood the implications of the document. But no matter how many times he reviewed the words on the page, the meaning was clear: If Claire had a gemstone, she could safely use the stones to return to her plane. To her people and her life. Away from him. 

But then he spiraled into doubt. How did he know he could trust this mysterious Geillis and her instructions? But as much as he wanted to deny it— to dismiss the entry as garbage and all thoughts of Claire leaving along with it— he couldn’t ignore the feeling in his wame that  _ this was the truth _ any more than he could refute the fact that Claire deserved a shot at returning home. Besides, something about Geillis had seemed odd… mystical perhaps. Not in the same way Claire did, but he certainly believed that whoever (or whatever) the bookkeeper was, she knew a hell of a lot more about this stuff than he did. And she’d known about Claire. So in the end, while he wasn’t certain that she was a friend per se, he thought it likely she was at least an ally— and he believed what was written on the page was the truth. 

Once Jamie had addressed comprehension and credibility, he moved on to his sorrow. 

_ Grief over the thought of losing Claire.  _

He was no longer lying to himself about the extent of his feelings. He was in love with her, plain and simple. Infatuated, enamored— all those things— but it went deeper than that. She’d walked her way straight into his heart and burrowed in there as sure as she did when she nestled against him in his bed. And now that she’d filled that empty space in his life, he couldn’t even imagine going back to the hollow loneliness of existence without her. 

Every part of him longed not to tell her. He could crumple up the page and throw it away, or better yet, he could burn it up without a trace, and she’d be none the wiser. 

But his mind swirled with images, memories eating at him that he couldn’t quite ignore. Claire crying against him only a few days ago, weeping for all she’s lost. Her trepidation as she’d faced the terrifying unknown of the city. The sheen of tears in her eyes that she’d fought back as she admitted Jenny had made her scared… 

As he thought about all she’d been through since being ripped from her home, he knew that taking away the chance to return would be unfair. He wanted to be selfish—  _ God, help him, _ he burned with it…

_ But he loved her enough to let her go.  _

A tear leaked out of the corner of his eye— scalding as it dripped down his cheek. He sat motionless in his office chair, his hand squeezing his opposite arm so tightly that the nails made deep red indents in his flesh, but he knew what he had to do. 

He’d tell her. 

Decision made, Jamie stood from his desk. His feet felt like they were encased with lead, and he was light-headed, as if all that thinking and agonizing had sucked his brain out with a straw. As horrible as he felt, he was resolved, and he made his way sluggishly downstairs. 

The scene in the living room nearly shattered that decision. 

Claire was asleep on his couch, all curled up and shoulders hunched under the fuzzy throw blanket she had clutched around her. Her bonny pink lips were parted just slightly and tiny whooshes of air tickled a single curl that had fallen over her face. 

_ He ached to see her like this for the rest of his life.  _

Just as he was about to turn on his heel and leave her to her rest (this was not the time for such a heavy revelation), she stirred. His stubborn feet anchored him in place as he watched her shift, head lifting a bit, and her eyes blinked open. 

“Hi, Jamie,” she breathed sleepily. 

While giving him a fond but drowsy smile, her head nestled back down onto the throw pillow. She looked up at him with eyes that always reminded him of a fawn’s. 

“Havin’ a wee rest?” He asked tenderly. 

“Yes,” she breathed. She glanced him up and down appraisingly and then said, “maybe you should too. You seem tired.” 

Jamie  _ was _ tired. He felt like he’d been put through a meat grinder several times over. Still, he knew there was no way he’d actually sleep even if he could tear his eyes away from her long enough to close them. 

_ But if Claire wanted a nap, and was hinting for him to join him, who was he to deny her? _

He indulged his selfish desires for a moment and approached the couch so he could bend down and run a hand over Claire’s hair. 

She smiled drowsily and leaned into his touch. Her eyes blinked slowly as she gazed up at him. 

_ God, she was beautiful.  _

“Let’s go upstairs, mo nighean donn,” he suggested quietly. 

His sleepy faerie did not seem inclined to get up. Her eyes had fallen closed again, but her hand blindly reached out for him. She caught his cheek, her fingers tracing over the stubble on his jaw. 

Then, suddenly, her eyes popped open. 

“Are you alright, Jamie?” she asked, her whisky gaze swimming with concern. 

Her abruptness startled him, but he quickly snapped himself out of it and put on his brave face. 

“I’m fine, Sassenach. Do ye want to stay on the couch or go up to bed?” he softly asked. 

Her brows furrowed, disbelieving, but she firmly answered, “with you.” 

He felt bad that he’d upset her but couldn’t seem to drag himself out of the cloud of depression that had wrapped around him the moment he’d decided to take her home. 

But he’d have this one last time with her, and he wouldn’t ruin it with dark thoughts. 

“Alright. Let’s go, mo nighean donn.” 

She sat up, eyes fixed on him all the while, and then took his hand. The way she was looking at him, soft and searching, made his heart skip a few beats. He hardened himself to the overwhelming desire to pour out his heart to her, lay all the cards on the table, and beg her to stay. But he knew in his bones that this wasn’t the time. 

Her thumb was tracing lightly over his knuckles, patient as he struggled inside himself. 

A part of him wanted to bury his face in her neck and let her stroke his hair— she would do it, he knew. All it would take was him to make the motion, take the comfort from her. 

But that wouldn’t be fair. If she saw his distress, she would feel guilty about leaving him. He loved her too much to put that burden on her. 

His puir heart was breaking, but he managed to wrap it up in a thin layer of composure, scoop up his scrambled thoughts, and put himself back together. He gave her a brave smile, feigning nonchalance. 

Breaking the silence, he said, “let’s go, mo calman geal.” 

He took her upstairs by the hand. She was still sleepy, but not inclined to let that stop her from caring for him— even if she had no idea what was going on. He could feel her hovering anxiously by his side, trying to figure out what was wrong. 

As they sat down on the bed, Claire tried to tug him down to cuddle with her, but he shook his head. Settling against the headboard instead, he guided her down to lay her head in his lap. 

He wanted to watch her.  _ Just this one last time.  _

Sleepy as she was, but probably even more so because she wanted to do whatever was best for him, she complied. She snuggled down into his lap and settled herself so she was comfortable. 

As he carded his fingers through her hair in gentle strokes, Claire began to relax. It wasn’t long before she drifted back into sleep. The lines on her face smoothed, and she seemed to melt into him impossibly further. 

His hands still moving soothingly against her, Jamie returned to his thoughts. A terrible weight rested on his shoulders as he came to a realization. 

He wouldn’t be strong enough to tell her here— in his home that had become  _ their  _ home (at least  _ he  _ felt that it was theirs)— and still manage to make the drive to the stones. It was selfish to keep this from her, but he simply wouldn’t be able do it. There were limits to his goodness, and he prayed God would forgive him for this one. 

So, with his mind made up, a plan began to form. 

He would tell her tomorrow that they were going for a hike. They’d drive out to the stones, and he would explain once they got there. His Grandfather’s ruby ring laid on his dresser— that would be what he’d give her to ensure safe passage. And then… then, she’d go home. 

And that was that. 

_ This was his last night with her.  _

He looked down and studied her face for a long time, trying to memorize every tiny detail. He knew it would be the remembrance of her that would warm him on the cold, lonely days that would surely follow. He traced her face reverently, first with his eyes, and then as his selfish, breaking heart took over, with soft touches of his fingertips. 

All that was left was to pray that tomorrow he would have the strength to send her away. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe now is the time for me to hide...


End file.
